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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858710">The (Un)Buried Past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylittleangel/pseuds/heylittleangel'>heylittleangel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby gets taken away, Badass!Cas, Break Up, Canon Characters Deaths, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Wickester, Deaths, Doctor!Cas, Established Castiel/Dean, Established Eileen/Sam, F/M, Feelings, Getting Back Together, Gore and Blood, Implied Smut, Intense Violence, I’m so sorry, John Wick AU, John Winchester A+ parenting, Killer!Cas, Lots of ‘em, M/M, Major Characters Injury, Swearing and cursing, Violence, a little betrayal depending on how you look at it, anger issues, badass!Dean, canon character death - John Winchester, different identity, dog getting hurt, hidden past that comes up, implied Dean/Michael, intense use of guns, lies and more lies, lots of feelings, she only gets hurt, the dog doesn’t die, there’s some kind os domesticity in it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:07:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylittleangel/pseuds/heylittleangel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After six years of living as a civilian, Dean has gotten rusty when it comes to defending himself. But, when the past comes knocking down everything in its way, Dean has to sink back into his old skin to get back what he wants. Ad what he finds out during the journey is not what he wants.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, implied past Dean Winchester/Michael, mentioned past Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, mentioned past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SPN Media Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beginning of the End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, peeps! Here I am, with another bang for all of you. I have to say, even though it was such a roller coaster of emotions to work on this fic and that I had so many ups and downs throughout it--and I may or may not be terrified of actually posting--this one was one of my favourites. The idea of writing a John Wick AU has been in my head for over a year now, way before I decided to participate in the bang. I hope I did this amazing movie justice and that you enjoy it.</p>
<p>I have some thank you's and love to spread around before actually letting you read. <a href="https://deansrightfulangerissue.tumblr.com/"> Polls</a> <em>has</em> to be the first one. This fic wouldn't have been written if it wasn't for her helping me and encouraging me to keep writing even when I felt like it wasn't worth it. I would've given up on it months ago if it wasn't for you and I can never thank you enough. You've listened to me bitch about this for months without one single complaint, thank you so much, you are amazing! ❤❤</p>
<p>Secondly, I need to thank my <em>amazing</em> <a href="https://leafzelindor.tumblr.com/"> artist</a> for doing all these awesome arts and for being an awesome person overall. I'm so happy we got paired up for this. The art is embedded in the fic but go give <a href="https://leafzelindor.tumblr.com/post/616833716710408192/ah-new-item-for-the-spnmediabang2020-i-was-extra"> her</a> some well-deserved love too. ❤</p>
<p>Thirdly, my two amazing betas <a href="https://ellen-of-oz.tumblr.com/"> Ellen</a> and <a href="https://banshee1013.tumblr.com/"> Banshee</a>. Thank you for making this fic readable and for helping me so much--Ellen, thank you for listening to me complaining and annoying you so much too.</p>
<p>Last but not least, I wanna thank the amazing mods of the bang. They've worked to make this bang be what is it and they worked so hard to make us have fun and make everyone feel loved--also for being overall awesome people that helped me a lot.</p>
<p>Translations will be at the endnotes of every chapter that has them. Okay, go enjoy the story now!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean nodded at his father, heading the way he was pointed to. The room was dark and silent, the air still as Dean kept his gun raised, eyes and ears open for anything. Their mission was to get in, kill everyone if they couldn’t avoid it, grab the thing, and get out, which seemed easy enough for Dean. Whoever owned this place, they didn’t worry about security in any way; he and John had managed to get in just by opening the one and only lock on the gate, no alarms or cameras to worry about. The carpeted floor muffled their footsteps and made it easy for them to walk around the house undetected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was starting to have a bad feeling about this mission; it seemed unlikely that the Men of Letters would send two of their best trackers and assassins to a house that could easily be broken into by a trainee. Not that there was much he could do about it, though, unless he wanted to disobey orders, which he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> because he knew what happened to those that did; the perspective of the punishment was enough for Dean to go on with the mission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next room he found himself in was the one the object they needed was in; it was some sort of spear—or lance, Dean didn’t know—almost five feet long, with what Dean thought was a silver tip, sharp enough to kill someone, with carvings at the tip but nothing that Dean couldn’t actually recognize. If he remembered his classes in The Bunker well enough, he would say it was some kind of language; probably one that hardly anyone could read, except the Men of Letters, obviously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the owner hadn’t protected the house, they sure worked to protect the spear; it was in a glass case—armoured glass from the looks of it—lots of locks around it, including a digital one, and Dean was pretty sure there was some kind of alarm attached to it. Any false movement could trigger it and Dean would rather not; their job was to get the spear undetected and that was what they were going to do. So he placed his bag on the floor as slowly as possible and went back to find his father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked towards where he thought John had gone. The house was big and Dean was already starting to get lost; should he turn right or left here? Which of the doors should he open? Would he get to the kitchen or to the living room if he followed this path? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Freakin’ rich people and their insistence on having gigantic houses. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He decided to say screw it and go back to where he came; he should be able to do at least that, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, as he did, he didn’t remember where he actually came from. Everything looked the same and he hadn’t paid too much attention to it as he walked. Now, he had no idea where to go and he couldn’t exactly just scream to get his dad’s attention without getting the owner’s as well. Sighing, Dean decided to just walk around randomly, see if anything looked familiar to him; it was better than waiting around with no hope of being found. Knowing his dad, he would probably leave him there if Dean didn’t make it back before John could get the spear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he turned the corner and finally saw the room the spear was in, Dean almost breathed out in relief. What stopped him from doing that was someone throwing themselves on top of him, making Dean hit the floor with a grunt, flat on his back. His gun flew from his hand to the other side of the hallway and the person on top of him held his arms. Dean tried to squirm away from the hold, using his legs to kick the person, but they were stronger than him. Dean squirmed uselessly, his arms pressed painfully against the ground, the person’s nails sinking into his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The low light finally managed to show the person’s face and Dean noticed it was the owner of the house; Ramiel something—Dean hadn’t worried about learning his full name but he knew the guy was someone important. Ramiel let go of one of Dean’s arms to punch him in the nose and Dean groaned in pain; for sure it was broken. But he used the advantage of having one arm free to tap at his pockets and grab his pocket knife while Ramiel was busy punching him; pushing the pain away to do it was actually the hardest part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean could feel the beginnings of a bruise forming on the right side of his face, feeling the pain burning in his cheek and the taste of blood in his mouth, but he kept quiet, not wanting to give the guy the satisfaction of listening to him complaining. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Dean’s hand finally found the knife, Ramiel noticed it; he grabbed Dean’s arm, slapping the knife away, and twisted it up. Dean couldn’t hold the scream that left his mouth, feeling the bone crack as Ramiel kept forcing his arm up. He tried to grab at Ramiel’s hand with his other hand but Ramiel pinned it on the floor, nails digging into Dean’s wrist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the last of his strength, Dean pulled his legs up, hitting Ramiel’s back with his knees. He kept on going until Ramiel lost his breath and his hold on Dean’s arms, and Dean pushed him away with his good arm, keeping the bad one close to him. There were sounds of heavy footsteps behind him and he turned to see his dad with his gun raised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean almost sighed in relief as John aimed at Ramiel, but Ramiel was faster; he grabbed a handful of Dean’s jacket and pulled him to use as a human shield. Dean tried to squirm away, kick Ramiel from behind, but Ramiel grabbed his bad arm right where it was broken and Dean had no breath left to fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean cried out as he was pulled up, Ramiel keeping him in front of himself as he walked backwards. “If you shoot me, you’ll shoot him too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John kept his aim at them, not seeming convinced. “Dean can take a few bullets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean widened his eyes, staring at his father in dead surprise; he could definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> take a few bullets. Ramiel also seemed surprised but he didn’t let go of Dean, only tightening his hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I dare you to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John kept his promise; he shot once at Dean’s shoulder—his bad one—and Ramiel was so surprised this time that he actually let Dean go. Dean grunted as he fell to the floor, his hand covering the bullet wound as blood spilled out of it and ran down his arm. John then shot again, this time at Ramiel’s chest, and Ramiel fell to his knees, grasping at the wound. John shot again, at Ramiel’s brain this time, and the man collapsed forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean breathed painfully, his arm hurting like a son of a bitch, and his vision was starting to black out—he just wasn’t sure if it was from the bruise forming or if he was about to pass out. He hoped he was going to pass out because then he wouldn’t have to deal with all the pain; the bullet seemed to burn inside his shoulder, the broken bone piercing his flesh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John didn’t even offer him a second glance as he walked to the room where the spear was, and Dean was left to groan in pain alone. His jacket and shirt were completely wet with blood by then and Dean searched for a handkerchief in one of his pockets, just to put some pressure on the wound; it was soaked wet in seconds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He limped to the room his dad was in, watching as he worked on the alarm. Dean wasn’t sure if he should go and help or just stay back; it wasn’t like he would be of great help—Sam was the one that knew how to deal with all of that—and he could barely move his left arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he just watched John turn the alarm off, jimmy the locks open, and then pass by him to pull Ramiel to the room. John didn’t spared a look at him as he did, grabbing Ramiel and pulling him close to the glass case, tugging his hand to place his finger on the fingerprint lock. It unlocked and John kicked Ramiel’s hand away before opening the glass. He stretched a hand towards Dean and Dean took a second to realize what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He searched inside his bag for the cases to hold the spear, grabbing the three boxes needed; one for the silver tip and the two others for the wood parts—that apparently were joined by some kind of latch. Dean handed them one by one to John, putting them back safely inside the bag after. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the three pieces were in their cases and in the bag, John pulled it from Dean’s hand and walked away. Dean winced at the pull in his arm and then limped behind his dad. He knew John was about to scream at him and he was tensed up as he waited for the snap; it was already taking too long and it wasn’t good. But, for now, Dean only followed his dad to the entrance of the house and then through the door, towards the Impala.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only then did John turn and finally look at Dean; John had a hateful expression on his face, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsating. Dean wanted to close his eyes and curl into himself, but he forced his back to stay straight and his face to be blank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How the hell did you manage to get caught, boy? Are you useless like that? If I wasn’t here to save your ass, he would’ve killed you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean didn’t say anything, he just kept staring at a point beside his dad’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were better than that or I would’ve never brought you with me!” John kept on going but Dean filtered his words; he had to or he was sure he would punch his dad in the face—and he was more than used to ignoring John’s lectures so it wasn’t hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Dean parked in front of his house, he breathed out, shutting the engine off. There was a faint pain in his shoulder and Dean rubbed a hand on it with a groan, even though he knew that wound was well healed after so many years. It still throbbed a couple of times, especially when he remembered his father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped out of Baby and dragged his feet to the door of the house. He fumbled for the keys in his pockets, not knowing how the hell did the suit manage to have so many. It wasn’t like that before, right? He shook his head with a sigh, moving his hand to another pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I probably drank way too much at the memorial. But, apparently, not enough to erase this awful memory from my head so it could’ve been more. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After crossing the distance between the Impala and the front door, Dean finally found his keys, working to find the right one now.</span>
</p>
<p><span>The house and the street were extremely quiet, barely a dog barking in the distance or the engine of a car passing by. There weren’t many lights either, just a merely-lit lamp on the other side of the street, but it was enough for Dean to find the right key and unlock the door. He stepped inside, closing and resting against it as he sighed in relief. He closed his eyes, glad for finally having some peace for himself; no one to say condolences or how sorry they were for him. No more people fake-crying or asking if needed anything or how he was holding up. Dean was </span><em><span>so</span></em> <em><span>sick</span></em><span> of all that bullshit.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He almost breathed out in contentment before there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clank</span>
  </em>
  <span> deeper in the house, making Dean open his eyes and stand in position to fight almost instantly, adrenaline taking the whiskey’s place quickly. He kicked his shoes off quietly, grabbing the pencil that was on the table near him and began walking towards the kitchen. He kept his footsteps light, so as not to make any noise, keeping his back against the wall to make it harder to see him in the dark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cursed the fact that he didn’t have a flashlight to see the intruder, but, thankfully, there was a light on in the kitchen, allowing him to see the outline of a man. Dean squinted to try and make out the man’s face, the pencil pressed tightly in his hand. He stopped just before the door to the kitchen, tilting his head when he saw the man walking around the kitchen. He seemed to be… cooking?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean frowned, wondering why someone would break into another person’s house to cook; that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird and not at all how robberies usually worked. The man turned to the fridge, opening it and allowing the fridge’s light to show his face, and Dean finally managed to recognize him—big, shiny, </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> blue eyes, even from afar, dark, messy hair, and tanned skin. Dean let out a sigh of relief as he stood straight, turning the hallway light on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it, Cas, what the hell are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I’m cooking?” He raised the bowl on his hands as proof. “I thought you would be hungry after the memorial.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled softly, placing the pencil on the counter, and walked to Cas, embracing him in his arms. “I’m starving, actually.” He gave Cas a soft kiss, resting their foreheads together after. “Why were you in the dark? You’re free to turn the lights on, y’know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas waved at the one and only light on in the kitchen. “I wasn’t in the dark, the light above the sink is on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, ‘cause that one </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> lightens things up, huh?” Dean rolled his eyes, giving Cas one last kiss before letting him go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean walked to the counter to check what Cas was cooking while Cas closed the fridge’s door and placed the bowl he had in his hands on the counter. Cas kept doing his thing as Dean looked over his shoulder; he saw buns, burgers, lettuce, and sliced tomatoes on the counter. He smiled softly and placed a hand on Cas’s lower back, making him turn his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the best, you know that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas smiled and shrugged, faking indifference. “I do what I can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you go and take that suit off. I’ll finish here and then maybe we can watch something while we eat or talk a little. What do you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled again. “That would be fucking great. I’m exhausted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas gave him a kiss on the cheek and pushed him towards the door. “Then go already. You’re taking way too long and you stink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled but walked towards the stairs, shrugging off the suit jacket as he made his way up. He walked to his room and went straight to the bathroom, throwing his clothes in the laundry basket. He stepped inside the shower, wanting nothing more than to just take the smell of death and flowers off of him; it was too much and it was making him feel sick. And Cas was right, Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>stank</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He turned the hot water on, letting the strong water jet fall on his back, melting some of his tension away and making him sigh in relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lost track of the time as he stayed under the jet, scrubbing his skin clean until he could smell nothing but the citrus soap on himself; the one Cas always said was his favourite. He stayed long enough for his muscles to start feeling like jelly and for his mind to turn wonderfully blank; no other thought but the burgers that waited for him. And only then did Dean turned the water off, wrapping himself in a towel as he walked out of the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shivering with the cold in his room, Dean made his way to the closet and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. He put them on, throwing the towel on the bed after—knowing that Cas would certainly complain when he saw it but not actually caring about it. Dean then walked out of the room, a hand running through his hair to comb it, and made his way down the stairs, Cas’s humming flowing through the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean saw Cas placing plates on the table when he got to the kitchen’s door, Cas’s hips rolling on the rhythm of the song he was humming. Dean stopped by the door, resting his side on the frame as he stared fondly at Cas, wondering how in the hell he managed to get so lucky to find him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Cas turned to grab something from the counter, he finally noticed Dean and startled, letting out a yelp of surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing there, standing like a freaking ghost, Dean? You scared the shit out of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled and started walking towards him. “I was just admiring the view.” He gave him a peck on the lips as Cas wrapped his arms around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhm, you had a pretty great view, huh?” Cas rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean raised an eyebrow, resting his head against Cas’s. “I’m good, why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These last few days haven’t been easy on you, Dean. I’m worried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled softly at him, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I’m cool, Cas, I promise. It’s not like Dad and I had a good relationship anyway, even during these last few months. I’m just glad he’s not suffering anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Seeming to accept it, Cas let go of Dean and pushed him towards the table. “Let’s eat, then, or it’s going to get cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked towards the table, each sitting on a chair. They ate while Dean told Cas about the memorial they had for John, the people that showed up, offering their sympathies—Dean didn’t have anything good to say about their sympathies— and how Sam and Eileen did practically everything there, from the eulogy to the general conversation; neither of them trusted Dean to handle it and Dean couldn’t say he didn’t agree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean let out everything he kept to himself during the memorial between bites of his burger, gratefulness coursing through him as Cas nodded and hummed. He told Cas about how he stayed most of the time with Mary—Dean’s niece—kind of using her as an excuse not to talk or stay among everyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was too young to understand what was happening around her or why people were crying, and neither Sam, Eileen, nor Dean wanted her to feel sad about a grandfather she didn’t even get to meet, so Dean stayed with her a little away from the gathering of people, just the two of them playing silly games to pass the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean and Cas stayed at the table after they finished eating, changing the subject to lighter ones, mostly just Cas telling Dean about his day at the hospital, the patients he had in his charge during the day. Dean liked to hear how Cas talked about his job, like it was one of the things that gave him the most pleasure in life, and Dean knew it was. He liked how Cas’s eyes shone as he explained things—Dean had no idea what they meant, but was content enough to hear Cas’s gravelly voice talking about them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean washed the dishes after, Cas drying and putting them in their place. They worked in sync, as they had done ever since they started dating. A comfortable silence fell on them, just the sound of the water running and dishes being placed in the cupboards until they were finished. Their arms touched a few times and Dean would always give Cas a small smile, relishing the smiles he got back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doorbell rang when Dean was drying his hands, making him frown and raise a brow towards Cas. He only shrugged, motioning for Dean to answer the door as he closed the cupboard. Dean sighed, throwing the cloth on the counter, and made his way to the door, opening it to reveal a mailwoman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Winchester?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman held a clipboard to Dean, tapping at a line. “Sign here, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took the clipboard, confusion still puckering his forehead. He signed where the woman pointed him to and handed it back. The woman took a box with tiny holes in it from the floor and handed it to Dean. She gave Dean a nod and wished him a good night before walking back to her van. Dean watched helplessly as the woman turned the engine on and drove away, still not sure what he had just received.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He startled when a tiny bark came from inside the box. His eyes widened as he raised it to stare at the box, a snout appearing in one of the holes, sniffing the air. Dean walked back inside, closing the door with a soft kick, and walked to the table, placing the box on top of it as Cas walked from the kitchen towards him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was it, Dean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A mailwoman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas tilted his head as he stopped by Dean’s side. “Kinda late for deliveries, no?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I have no freakin’ clue what it’s in the box." Dean smiled wickedly at Cas, who rolled his eyes before Dean could even say anything. "What's in the box? What’s in the box?" Dean yelled, widening his eyes to Cas and grabbing his shoulders. Cas only gave him a bitch face that would put Sam’s to shame until Dean sighed. "You're no fun sometimes, you know that, right? Fine, I think it’s a dog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you say that?” A bark came from inside the box as Cas finished speaking. Cas chuckled. “Well, that explains it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled softly and started opening the box. There was, indeed, a puppy inside—it was very fluffy, a little bigger than Dean’s hand, and all white.  It looked up at Dean with big, blue eyes, and barked once more, standing up and starting to jump at the sight of Dean and Cas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas melted as he put his hands inside the box to take the puppy. “It’s so cute, Dean.” The puppy licked Cas's face, making him giggle. “Who got you a dog?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugged as he looked inside the box, looking for anything that could give him a hint. There was a letter taped to one of the sides of the box and Dean took it, recognizing the handwriting in it in a second. His lips formed a smile as he read his name and address written neatly on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas frowned at him. “Why are you smiling? Do you know who sent it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I could recognize this handwriting anywhere. It’s from Jo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jo? She probably heard about John, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that girl knows everything about everyone, all the time. I wonder how she does it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas laughed, the puppy deciding to climb on his shoulder to sniff his hair. “What does she say?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Dean opened the letter, taking a sheet of paper from inside the envelope; there wasn’t much written on it, just the front page with a few lines. Dean read it out loud, “</span><em><span>Hey, asshole. I heard about John; sorry to hear about it, Mom too. I know we haven’t talked in a while and that you’re probably pretending you’re a-okay with it, but I know you; you loved John as much as he loved you, you two were just too damn stubborn sons of bitches to leave the past where it belongs. That’s why I sent her—you need someone to look after and no, Baby doesn’t count, don’t even try to complain. I know you’ll give her a good home and that she’ll be good to you as much as you’re going to be good to her. Y’know where to find me whenever you need me.</span></em> <em><span>And I'm sure you'll understand the name I gave her as soon as you read the name tag. You won't be able to forget about me even if you want to. Mom says hi and wanted me to tell you to come visit; she misses you and we haven’t seen you in a while. And you're welcome, jackass.</span></em><span>” Dean smiled when he finished reading, turning the sheet over to make sure he read everything. He shook the envelope and a collar fell from it. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>He took it, checking the nametag: Jo. He put it around Jo’s neck as she licked Dean’s hand, making him smile. “That girl really knows me too. And yeah, I doub’t we could ever forget about her name now</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas smiled, handing Jo to Dean. “She does. And she’s right, Dean, Baby doesn’t count as having someone to take care of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it does. I take care of her every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas only shook his head. “You wish. I wonder if she's hungry. We should head out tomorrow and grab her some supplies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean scratched behind her ear happily. “Yeah, we should. But we can give her some meat today. Is there any left from the burgers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ll grab some for her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked back to the kitchen, Dean petting Jo with a small smile on his lips. She licked his hand, bumped her head against it whenever it seemed he wasn’t giving her enough attention, and bit his hand playfully. Dean watched as Cas opened the fridge and took the meat from inside it. Cas moved around the kitchen with ease, opening drawers and cupboards to get whatever he needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t five minutes later that Jo had a bowl with meat and one with water in front of her. She dived at the meat bowl with no hesitation, eating happily as Dean and Cas watched. Dean put one of his arms around Cas’s waist, resting his head on Cas’s shoulder, sighing happily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who would’ve known we could be so domestic, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas chuckled, resting his head on top of Dean’s. “Guess we’re getting old.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> old, I’m totally young yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas hummed unamused, receiving a poke on the ribs from Dean. He let out a yelp of surprise, jumping in place as he tried to escape Dean’s tickles. Dean chuckled, getting an ugly stare from Cas. Jo finished eating and drinking her water and came running to them, jumping at Dean’s leg, her front paws on his knees, tongue sticking out of her mouth. Dean smiled as he lowered himself to take her in his arms and she licked his face, barking happily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw Cas smile as he walked out of the kitchen with Jo in his arms, and Dean just stuck his tongue out at him. Cas turned the lights off as he chuckled, and they made their way up the stairs. Dean talked to Jo in a silly voice, putting her face close to his, her snout bumping against his nose. She licked his cheek again happily and barked excitedly at Dean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She really likes you,” Cas said as he turned the hallway light on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugged. “What can I do? Chicks dig me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas gave an annoyed look at him, making Dean chuckle. He handed Jo to Cas. “Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. I’m gonna get something to set up a bed for her until we get her a real one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas nodded and walked towards Dean’s room—and Dean totally ignored Cas’s complaints about the wet towel on the bed. Dean made his way to the guest’s room to grab some blankets. He tried not to look too much at the bed that had been his father’s until a few days ago, before the cancer finally won the battle and took John away from this world. There were still some machines around the bed that helped John breathe when he couldn’t do it by himself—Dean could still hear them beeping—and piles of medicine bottles on the nightstand, each for a different thing. Dean had no idea what each one was for because Cas was the one that knew more about them, and Dean had never bothered enough to learn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shook his head to get rid of the memories. The last thing he needed was to get dragged into them again, especially now that he could breathe easier. He took the blankets from the closet and walked out of the room as fast as he could, turning the lights off and closing the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let himself rest against the closed door for a few minutes, eyes closed as he pressed the blankets against his chest. He took deep breaths to calm himself down, trying to keep his mind blank, pushing the memories away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He startled when Cas’s voice came from his room, making him open his eyes, “Dean? Everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dean croaked. He cleared his throat before saying more firmly, “Yeah, I‘m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed himself off the door and made his way to his room. He saw Cas flossing his teeth in front of the mirror in the bathroom and Jo on his bed. Dean started putting the blankets together on the floor next to the bed, fluffing them the most he could. He gave a few taps on them, looking at Jo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, baby girl, this one is your bed.” She stared at him with her head tilted, pretending not to know what he was talking about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas chuckled as he turned to look at them. “She’s not going, Dean. Your bed is way more comfortable than those blankets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugged. “It’s the memory foam. But her bed is here, not there. She should learn. I already have you going all octopus-y on me during the night.” Cas flipped him off through the mirror and Dean laughed quietly. Jo kept her head tilted, staring at him with those blue eyes. “Y’know, she looks like you. Piercing blue eyes and this head tilt is exactly what you do when you’re confused.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas tilted his head. “No, I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean raised a brow at him. “You’re doing it right now.” Cas flipped him off again, turning back to the mirror. Dean chuckled and stood up, walking to the bed. He took Jo in his arms and placed her on the blankets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, girl? This is your bed. It’s comfortable too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sniffed the blankets suspiciously, then raised her head to stare at Dean and he could swear that she was telling him to shove the blankets where the sun don’t shine. She then jumped from the blankets back to the bed, snuggling close to Dean’s pillow without sparing him another look. He sighed, shaking his head as Cas chuckled from the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I give up.” Dean walked to the bathroom, accepting his toothbrush from Cas’s  hand as be brushed his own. “Guess you’re gonna have to sleep on the floor, Cas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas turned to stare at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open, his own toothbrush between his lips. “Why me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, bed’s mine and Jo doesn’t wanna sleep on the blankets. One of us has to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not. The three of us can fit there. I am not sleeping on the floor, Winchester.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled, putting the toothbrush under the water. “Of course you’re not, sweetheart. Just messing with ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas hummed, unamused, turning to look at himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth. Dean started brushing his, keeping his eyes on Jo. Cas walked back to the room after finishing, stripping himself down to his boxers. Dean moved his gaze to stare at Cas’s broad back, the muscles moving under the skin making Cas’s tattoos and scar move with them. Even after four years, they still seemed familiar to him, though Dean couldn’t place from where, and Cas would hardly ever talk about them, not even when he asked Dean about his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, putting the toothbrush back in its place. When he turned back to Cas, he was in the bed, only in his boxers, playing with Jo as he talked to her in a silly voice. Dean smiled as he took off his shirt, throwing it alongside with Cas’s clothes. He turned the bathroom light off and made his way to the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled the blankets aside while Cas held Jo, laying on his back. Cas put her back on the bed and pulled his end of the blankets as Dean kept her on his chest. She laid down, putting her nose on his neck. He caressed her fur as Cas turned the lights off and laid on his side. Cas snuggled close to him, one arm under his pillow and throwing the other on top of Dean’s lower abdomen, placing his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean let his head rest on top of Cas’s, one arm around Cas’s shoulders and the other arm on his abdomen, intertwining his fingers with Cas’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean placed a kiss on Cas’s forehead and Cas raised his head to give Dean a peck on the lips before resting his head back on Dean’s shoulder. Dean took a deep breath as Jo moved closer to Cas, her head between Dean and Cas’s. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Didn’t matter how many bad things Dean had done in his past or how he had always made himself out to be a tough guy in front of everyone else—the big, scary Dean Winchester—he was a big fan of cuddling, especially when it was with Cas, and Jo</span> <span>made it even better. Dean couldn’t remember a time he was more relaxed and happier than he was today, and he was damn sure nothing could mess that up.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The days went by pretty smoothly after Dean got Jo; he and Cas took days off to take care of her, going for walks in the late afternoon or for picnics; Sam, Eileen, and Mary were in Dean’s house every day or so to keep him company—and also because Mary loved Jo and wanted to see her all the time. Dean felt pretty good, relaxed after spending so many months worried and with the weight of John’s disease on his shoulders. Dean also finally got the house to himself and could sleep as much as he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Cas was at work, Dean would spend most of his day with Jo, playing with her around the house, teaching her tricks, and setting her on the routine of the house. Whenever Sam, Eileen, and Mary were there, Dean would cook for the four of them, trying different recipes and whatever he remembered from his mother’s cooking. He spent a lot of time with Mary, getting closer to her. He talked a lot with Sam and Eileen, giving them both peace of mind about him; he told them he was dealing fine with John’s death and that there wasn’t any reason for them to worry about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Eileen came without Sam, she would always bring something she knew Dean liked—mostly pie—or something for Cas when he was there, or a new toy for Jo. She would spend the whole day with Dean, both of them talking about their day or their jobs as they watched Mary and Jo play and run around the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam was always talking about new cases, the freaking nerd. His eyes would always be glowing and his voice was always proud when he told Dean about the cases he won, and how happy he was whenever he got to help someone who needed it. Dean would never admit it, but seeing Sam that cheery made him feel glad for his little brother, and it filled Dean’s heart with pride to see him so successful and finally happy with what he was doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean spent a lot of nights with just him and Jo, Cas being too busy at the hospital. He didn’t mind having that time for himself, even though he missed Cas; he was able to start getting the house back in order during the night, getting rid of pills and machines he didn’t have use for anymore, getting the guest room redecorated. He would read the books Cas insisted on leaving there—and that he knew Dean would like—he would binge-watch shows, especially Dr. Sexy MD, and he would just spend time with Jo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a few weeks after Jo got there that things started to go to hell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day had started pretty normal: Cas had spent the days he was free from the hospital at Dean’s house, and they didn’t do much more than stay in bed all day—leaving Jo outside when they didn’t want to traumatize her— and cooking a few times. They had gotten up early because Cas was going back to work that day, and Dean wanted to take him there, as always. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their routine was normal; they took a shower as they usually did, then Dean made breakfast for them while Cas took Jo outside for her to run a little and do her business, and then they ate while watching the news on the TV. It was pretty domestic as usual and Dean was more than happy to stay like that all day, watching Cas more than the TV, if they coul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they had finished eating, the three of them made their way to the garage to get Baby and then drive to Cas’s work. Dean opened the back door for Jo to jump in, petting her head with a smile. Cas raised a brow at him, crossing his arms on his chest. Dean frowned at him, closing the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For mister </span>
  <em>
    <span>no dogs allowed in the car</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this is pretty strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes, entering in the driver’s seat. “She’s gotten with us in the car a bunch of times. How is it still weird?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas shrugged, closing the passenger’s door. “You were very against it at the beginning, Dean. You barely let Bee ride here when I needed to take him to the vet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, c’mon, that’s totally different. Your cat </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> me and he almost destroyed Baby. I was right back then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas scoffed lightly, running his hand fondly over the door. “He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. He just… wasn’t fond of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes again, opening the garage door and shifting into reverse. “Same thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw Cas scowl at him but pretended not to see it, hiding a chuckle. As Dean drove towards the hospital, Cas opened his window just enough for Jo to be able to squeeze her head between the frame of the door and Cas’s head so she could put her own face through it and look at the trees passing by. She barked at everything she saw as if she had never seen it before; as if Dean didn’t take her on drives every day. Cas pet her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled fondly as he looked at the two, Cas with a small smile on his lips, talking in a silly voice at her. Dean couldn’t understand what Cas was saying because of the wind coming through the window, so he let the music fill his ears instead. He focused on the road in front of him, one arm resting on the open window and the other on the wheel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jo came to the middle a little later, closer to Dean so she could rub her head against Dean’s jacket to get his attention, turning the black into white with her fur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas laughed as he saw Dean’s annoyed face and whistled for Jo to go to him. Cas patted Dean’s jacket, trying to take some of the fur from it. Dean shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll clean it when I get home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you manage to do that. I told you not to wear black around her.” Dean glared at him, making Cas laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas planted a kiss on Dean’s cheek, taking the frown from his face and replacing it with a smile as Dean parked Baby in front of the hospital. Jo jumped to the front seat—ignoring Dean completely—and stuck her head through Cas’s window as he grabbed his bag from the floor. He put the bag on his lap and raised one of his hands to put on Dean’s cheek, running his thumb along Dean’s jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for the ride, baby,” he said with a fond smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled. “Ain’t a problem, angel.” Dean gave Cas a small kiss. “I’ll see you in a couple of days?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas nodded, pressing one more kiss on Dean’s lips. “I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, sunshine,” Dean replied as a blush made its way to his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas chuckled, giving him one more kiss before turning to the door. Dean grabbed Jo’s collar so she wouldn’t get out of the car with him. Cas climbed out of the car, closing the door behind him and petting Jo one last time through the open window. He walked around Baby and made his way to the door of the hospital. He turned to look at Dean, giving him a wave and blowing a kiss. Dean sent him a kiss back and waited until Cas was inside the hospital to turn the engine on again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jo sat in the passenger seat, turning to look at Dean with her tongue sticking out of her mouth, ears down. Dean smiled at her, scratching behind her ears. “Yeah, I know, I’ll miss him too. But we’ll have him soon, girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She barked at him, bumping her head against his hand. Dean pressed the gas pedal and started to drive back home. He turned the volume of the radio up, keeping one arm on the wheel and the other on Jo’s neck. She breathed with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, her fur moving with the wind from the open windows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stopped at a pet store to get some supplies for Jo—she ate as much as he did—along with a few treats for her. Everything was pretty empty for a Monday morning, only a few customers with their own pets, but Dean shouldn’t be surprised; he had moved out of New York exactly because he wanted to be somewhere calmer and where there would be fewer chances that he would be recognized from his old life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was five minutes away from home when he noticed the tank was practically empty. Not wanting to have to worry about it later, he stopped at the gas station close to the house and got out of the car. Jo barked at him but Dean pet her through the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just gonna fill the tank, sweetie, I’ll be back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She barked again but stayed in her place, staring at him with curious eyes. Dean walked to the pump to pay and then put the valve in Baby’s tank. He walked to the passenger’s side, resting his back against the back door as he watched the pump. Jo put her head on the window, blue eyes staring up at him. He smiled softly as he petted her abstractely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few seconds after he stopped, another car pulled over, stereo blasting some song Dean didn’t know—not that he would ever know whatever garbage they were listening to but it was annoying. Three men got out of the car; one had a hoodie on, some brand on the left side, an ugly expression on his face as if he was trying to play tough—it wasn’t working—one that seemed a little older than the others from the looks of it and wearing a well-fitted suit, and the last one was wearing a leather jacket and a cap, some kind of mark on the right side of his neck, like a scar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he saw their faces, Dean’s blood started to boil as he remembered some of the spoiled boys he used to see when he was still in the business; the ones that always thought that, because their daddies had money and power, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted without any consequences. Dean had always despised them and had never dealt directly with any of them—thank god—and they never wanted to deal with Dean either because they were always too scared—Dean was very proud of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The men started talking in a different language—Russian, Dean recognized—with each other, laughing at their own stupid jokes as if they were the funniest people in the world. The guy with the leather jacket went to the pump to fill the car’s tank and the guy in the suit went to the convenience store, smoothing the wrinkles on it. The guy in the hoodie screamed something at him and the other only waved him off. The guy took a cigarette out of his pocket and put it in his mouth, lightening it up as he looked around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean only stared at them, keeping a deadpan expression on his face and a stilled hand on Jo’s fur. The guy in the hoodie seemed to notice Dean and started walking towards him. Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes and sigh, or grab the knife he kept under his waistband to scare the guy off—the last thing he wanted was to deal with someone like that when he was in such a good mood; if the guy tried enough, Dean would gladly use the knife.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy stopped close to the Impala, watching her with interested eyes, and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Nice ride,” though he was speaking Russian before, his voice had little to nothing of an accent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Probably has a Russian family</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy started walking around Baby, talking still, “A Chevy Impala. 1968?” He tapped the hood with his knuckles and Dean wanted more than anything to rip them off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean swallowed the desire to hit him. “‘67,” he answered through his teeth. He put the valve back in its place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed the lid of the tank as the guy said, “Beautiful car.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Dean forced out as he walked to the driver’s door. Jo stared at him from his seat and Dean pushed her gently to the passenger seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy gave a few more taps on Baby’s hood, staring at Dean with a smug smile. “How much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stopped mid-movement and stared at him with his lips pursed, not quite believing it. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean had to take a deep breath to keep himself under control before answering, “She ain’t for sale, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He entered the car as the guy walked to the open window on the passenger’s side. He put his head through it and petted Jo—or tried to, Jo moving to avoid his hand, a low growl in her throat. Dean licked his lips angrily. It wasn’t going to take him long before he snapped at the guy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck does he think he is?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love dogs,” he said as he kept trying to pet her. He continued without looking at Dean, “У всего есть цена, мудак.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Только не этот мудак здесь,” Dean replied with a deadpan expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy’s eyes widened as he stared at Dean, the cigarette almost falling from his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy got dragged out of the car by the guy in the suit, letting out a yelp. “Кто этот придурок думает, что он?” he screamed at the man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other man ignored him, keeping him at arm’s length, and lowered himself enough to look at Dean, talking over the screams, “You have good day, sir,” and his voice had a heavy Russian accent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean didn't bother to answer, only turned the engine on. The guy gave him a nervous smile and walked away, dragging the other guy with him, who was still complaining in Russian about Dean. Dean let a smirk come to his lips as he pressed the gas pedal and drove away. He saw the hoodie guy staring at him through the rearview mirror, which compelled Dean to press it a little more and turn the car sharply to get in the roadway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jo stared at him with her big, blue, squinted eyes, head slightly tilted. Dean scoffed at her. “Don’t give me those judgy eyes. That guy deserved it and you know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She just kept staring at him, letting her tongue slide out of her mouth. Dean chuckled and rubbed his hand on her head. He turned the radio on, Metallica filling the silence around him. The rest of the drive to his house was calm, not many cars passing by, the sun high and warm in the sky. Dean tried to relax against the leather seat as he drove, trying to get the image of the douche guy out of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed incredibly familiar and Dean couldn’t put his finger on why. Dean was sure it wasn’t anyone he met after he got out of the life but he didn’t remember seeing the guy before that either. It bothered Dean not being able to know who the guy was, especially because Dean was very proud of his awesome memory; he was sure he should be able to know who it was but he couldn’t think of why that should be the case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean pushed the thought out of his mind, thinking it wasn’t worth worrying much about it; it wasn’t like Dean would ever see the douche again, thankfully.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He parked Baby in the garage when he got home, letting Jo out of the car to go run in the backyard as he took the things he bought out of the trunk and placed them near the door to the house, deciding to worry about it later; no reason to walk all the way inside more than necessary. He walked to where Jo was rolling on the grass, closing the door of the garage after. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat under the giant oak tree a few feet from where she was, stretching his legs in front of him to relax. Jo came running to him, dropping by his side and resting her head on his thighs. He smiled at her, putting one hand on her head to scratch behind her ears. She leaned into his touch, blue eyes staring at him happily. Dean took his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of her to send to Cas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seemed to sense that he was taking her picture because she tilted her head and blinked slowly at him. Dean chuckled quietly. “You like having your pic taken, huh? You’re getting too spoiled, miss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sent the picture to Cas along with the phrase </span>
  <em>
    <span>she looks exactly like you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He also sent a </span>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you </span>
  </em>
  <span>after, blushing a little with a small smile. They had been together for four years, and Dean still blushed and got all flustered whenever he demonstrated any emotions towards Cas, as if he was a teenager with his first love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas teased him whenever that happened, saying Dean looked too cute for words when he blushed and that it made Cas feel special because of it—the only reason Dean didn’t mind it too much. Dean put his phone aside and leaned his back against the giant oak tree. He closed his eyes, letting the sun and Jo warm him up, his hand lazily scratching behind her ears as she leaned against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean lost track of time after that, dozing off a couple of times. He only opened his eyes again when he heard the engine of a car down the road and saw Eileen’s car. Jo raised her head, eyes wide open as she heard the car. She didn’t even wait for him before she got up and ran towards the entry of the house, tail wagging around as she waited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up as Eileen parked and Mary got out of the car, throwing herself on top of Jo who barked happily at her and licked her face as Mary giggled. Eileen smiled at him as she got out with a bag on one of her hands and Dean walked to her, embracing her. She hugged him back, giving a few loving taps on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he signed to her. “What are you two doing here?” he talked slowly. “Thought you had something big at your job today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded. “I do, but Mary wanted to come and see Uncle Dean and Jo, so I brought her. Is it okay if I leave her with you today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it is. If she at least comes and says hello to me,” Dean said loudly, tilting his head to look at Mary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to him with a big smile and started running towards him. Dean crouched down with his arms open, huffing when she threw herself on him. Dean laughed as she kissed his cheek. He saw Eileen smile as Jo walked to her, bumping her head against Eileen’s leg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stood up with Mary in his arms. She crossed her legs around his waist and he supported her with one arm. “Don’t worry about us, Eileen, we’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at him and nodded, handing him the bag. “Thank you, Dean. Sam said he’ll drop by after work to pick her up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean grabbed the bag. "No worries. I promise this little devil here,” Dean shook Mary, “will be exhausted and will sleep the whole night, isn’t that right, little devil?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary chuckled, hiding her face against Dean’s chest. “I’m not little devil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eileen smiled at her daughter, messing her hair. “I’m gonna go, then. Be good to your uncle, Mary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary nodded and Eileen gave Dean a kiss on the cheek before walking back to her car. Dean, Mary, and Jo watched as she drove away, eyes following the car and waving until it disappeared. Dean put Mary back on the floor while she smoothed down her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, what do you wanna do, little devil?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruun!” She screamed as she started to run, Jo following her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled and placed the bag by the tree as he watched Mary go to the other end of the backyard, Jo barking happily as she ran along and jumping a few times on Mary’s legs. Mary laughed sweetly as she grabbed one of Jo’s toys, throwing it far for Jo to catch. Jo barked as she ran towards it, and Dean made his way towards Mary. Jo chewed on the toy, making it squeak loudly as she ran back to them. Mary turned to Dean and smiled before running towards him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He barely got the time to crouch down to catch her, both of them falling to the ground as they laughed. Jo appeared seconds later, dropping the wet toy on Dean’s face and jumping on top of him. Dean huffed under their combined weight and groaned in disgust at the toy, slobber all over his face. Mary made an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ew</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound, scrunching her face, and chuckled as Jo licked Dean’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes, trying to clean his face. “Thanks, Jo, I definitely didn’t have enough of it already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jo barked and Dean was sure she was making fun of him. He sat once she and Mary got off of him, cleaning the slobber from his face with his arm. Mary grabbed the toy and threw it again, Jo running towards it, and then she turned to Dean, little hands making their way to his ribs and poking him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as he jumped away from her. “Oh no, I can’t believe you did that. You’re gonna wake the tickle monster up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary squeaked as she got up, trying to get away from Dean’s hands. “No, not the tickle monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled before pushing himself up and running towards Mary. She laughed as she started to run away. “I’m gonna get you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lost track of the time after that, running and laughing, tickling Mary until she screamed in delight, playing with Jo, pushing Mary in the swing. They only went inside when Mary said she was hungry and they decided to cook; or, more like make the kitchen look like a war zone. They went back to playing after eating, Dean coming up with dozens of games to keep the three of them entertained: they rolled on the grass, they swam, ran, jumped, danced; Dean lost track of the time after a few hours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it got dark, they went back inside, Dean sending Mary to take a bath and Jo happily followed her. Dean went to the kitchen to fix them dinner and make the kitchen look at least presentable; get rid of all the flour on the floor and the counters, along with pieces of cake and pie. He could deal with the heavy cleaning the next day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was filling their plates when Mary stepped down the stairs, Jo on her trail, yawning. Dean placed the plates on the table as he smiled at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> right; you do look tired, little devil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stuck her tongue out as she sat on her seat. “I’m not little devil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With how much you ran today, don’t know what else you could be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean ruffled her hair as he walked to his seat, earning an ugly stare from her. Dean chuckled as they started to eat, Jo walking between the two of them, with her big, puppy eyes, begging silently for food. He sent her to her own food with a slight push, chuckling at her fake-hurt expression. He made sure Jo was eating before moving his gaze to Mary; she was supporting her head with one hand, the other slowly going from her plate to her mouth, most of the food falling back to the plate. Dean smiled as he finished eating, standing up after to take his plate to the sink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary seemed to shake herself awake at the noise, head snapping to look at Dean. She rubbed her hand on her eyes before standing up, and took the plate to Dean, yawning behind her other hand. Dean smiled as he took the plate from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go to the couch and put on something to watch? I’ll be right there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded slowly as she yawned again, dragging her feet as she walked, Jo following her happily. Dean kept an eye to watch them as he finished doing the dishes. There weren’t many and he joined them soon. The TV wasn’t even on but Mary was already sound asleep on the couch, mouth hanging slightly open, Jo a few inches from her. Dean turned the TV on, lowering the volume before sitting between the two, both curling by his side and resting their heads on top of him in mere seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled as he pet Jo’s fur with one hand and threaded his fingers through Mary’s hair with the other. He closed his eyes, relaxing against the couch, and the sound of the TV lulled the three of them to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone shook Dean and he groaned softly. “Dean. Wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times until his vision focused. He saw Sam crouched down in front of him with a fond smile on his lips. Dean yawned and stretched, Mary and Jo complaining by his side as they adjusted themselves. He chuckled along with Sam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rubbed his hands on his eyes. “Is it that late already?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam nodded. “Kinda, yeah. Guess she tired you out, too, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, she made me run all day long. I’ll be sore tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want me to pick her up and take her to the car?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shook his head softly. “Nah, I’ll take her. Grab her bag, it’s upstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam hummed his agreement and patedt Dean’s knee before making his way to the stairs. Dean slid his arms under Mary before standing up, pulling her with him and adjusting her in his arms. Mary mumbled something in her sleep, hiding her face in Dean’s chest to go back to sleep. He smiled softly and walked to the front door, Jo jumping off of the couch to follow him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean made his way to Sam’s car, opening the back door and placing Mary in her seat. He was fastening her seatbelt when her hand found his, making Dean look at her with a smile, finding her eyes barely open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleep, little devil. Your dad’s gonna take you back home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary nodded sleepily, fighting to keep her eyelids open, and mumbled, “I love you, Uncle Dean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes watered and he tried to keep his voice steady, “I love you too, little devil. Now go back to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary turned her head to rest it against the seat and Dean placed a kiss on her forehead, brushing the hair out of her face. He placed a blanket on top of her before closing the door, and saw Sam coming out of the house with Mary’s bag in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam put the bag in the passenger seat before turning to face Dean. “Thank you for staying with her. She didn’t want to stay with anyone else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course she didn’t; no one is as cool as me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Jo has nothing to do with it, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean pet Jo behind her ears. “‘Course not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always happy to stay with her, Sammy, y’know it. Drive safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam gave him a hug. “Will do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean and Jo watched Sam drive away before making their way back to the house. Dean locked all the doors and windows, turned the TV and the lights off, and walked up the stairs. Jo went straight to his bed when they got to the room, laying on Cas’s side of the bed—as she always did whenever Cas wasn’t there—and Dean went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pee, changing to his boxers and one of Cas’s shirts after; having Cas’s smell on him always helped Dean sleep better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laid by Jo’s side, grabbing his phone from the nightstand as she moved her head to his chest, eyes staring at his. Dean pet her as he dialed Cas’s number and put it on speaker, resting the phone on his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Dean,” Cas answered and Dean could almost hear the smile in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, angel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jo raised her head, looking around the room with big eyes, looking for Cas. Dean smiled sadly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jo’s already missing you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss her as well. And you too, a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean faked hurt. “Just a little? That’s hurtful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas chuckled. “It’s only been a few hours. Give me a day or so to forget how annoying you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot, sweetheart. And I miss you </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> already. Can’t wait to see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you do. How was your day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mary spent the day with me, so I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That little devil made me run so much today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can imagine. At least you’ll manage to sleep well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, at least. And how was your day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As usual, though I got a really hard case. I’m going to perform a complex surgery tomorrow and there’s so much to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna do amazing, as always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean yawned again and Cas chuckled. “You should go to sleep or you’re gonna fall asleep on me, and I need to study.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I definitely should. Good luck with your surgery tomorrow, babe. Don’t kill anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean could almost hear Cas rolling his eyes. “I’ll do my best. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, angel. So much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean hung up the phone, placing it back on his nightstand and turned the lights off. He adjusted himself on the bed, placing one hand on top of Jo, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p><span>When Dean woke up with Jo</span> <span>barking quietly on his ear, her paw hitting him on his chest, he was damn sure it wasn’t time for him to wake up—he had just gone to bed. He shoved her aside gently and looked at the clock on his nightstand; 02:38 am. Yep, too fucking early for him to wake up. He turned to his side and closed his eyes, determined on going back to sleep.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Jo bumped her head against his back, licking his neck and the side of his face. Dean tried to push her away but she was incredibly insistent, avoiding his hand to keep bumping on him. He sighed and turned on his back, looking at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need to go now? You were out right before I closed everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She barked quietly again and Dean sat, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and feeling his legs hurting—he was right about being sore. He was about to stand up when he heard a muffled noise downstairs. His instincts kicked in immediately, the sleep leaving him in a matter of milliseconds. Jo stared at him before she jumped out of the bed, her fur standing up as she growled, low and deep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean started making his way out of the room on quiet feet, the socks absorbing the sound of his footsteps, eyes and ears open for any more sound or movement. Jo walked right behind him, more silent than Dean had ever seen her. He tried to see anything down the stairs before he started to walk down. His hands were closed into fists and he cursed the fact that he didn’t get his gun before leaving the room; he was probably going to need it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything seemed fine in the living room, no one in sight, but that didn’t calm Dean down; if anything, it made him more anxious. He had a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, warning him that someone was there even if he couldn’t see them—and Dean hated when he couldn’t see people, he was supposed to be the one that others didn’t see. He turned around the room, squinting his eyes to try and see in the dark. Jo turned to his left and growled, making Dean turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could even notice what was happening, someone knocked him down with something too heavy to be a fist; probably some kind of crowbar. Dean fell to the floor, the entire side of his face exploding in pain and his shoulder hitting the ground harshly. He grunted as he put his hand on his face, but someone else kicked his chin, making him bite his tongue and he felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Jo growl again and attack someone, but Dean couldn’t see much with all the black spots in his vision. He tried to stand up but the person punched him, making him collapse back to the floor and more spots to appear in his vision; Dean felt extremely dizzy. His brain was all fuzzy and coherent thoughts were not happening. He heard a man talking in Russian and the voice was a lot like the guy’s in the gas station earlier. Dean didn’t understand what he said—he could barely understand English at the moment—but there were laughs after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean could still hear Jo growling and barking angrily and all he wanted to do was to tell her to stop, to come to him. He tried to open his eyes but only managed halfway, letting him see a man kicking her away, making her whimper, followed by a man’s voice, “Shut this stupid dog the fuck up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to say no and stand up, but his arms gave out when he tried to support his weight and he fell again, hitting his face on the floor. The last thing he saw before passing out was a man kicking Jo again as she tried to run towards him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Translations:</b>
</p><p>1. “У всего есть цена, мудак.” —&gt; "Everything has a price, asshole.”<br/>2. “Только не этот мудак здесь,” —&gt; “Not this asshole is here,”<br/>3. “Кто этот придурок думает, что он?” —&gt; “Who does this jerk think he is?”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Back Into His Old Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Dean opened his eyes, all he felt was his entire body hurting like a son of a bitch. His mouth tasted like old, coagulated blood, his head was pounding, and his arms and legs hurt whenever he tried to move them. He stayed still and slowly let his eyes adjust to the light around him, trying to ignore the pounding in his head—which was extremely hard.</span>
</p>
<p><span>He looked around him, trying to remember what the hell had happened. There was broken glass all around the room, part of the furniture was thrown around, and there was blood on the floor, along with what Dean thought was pieces of clothes</span> <span>and… skin? Flesh? He didn’t know.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Forcing his body to answer his brain, Dean sat up and saw Jo laid down by his side, blood around her mouth and neck, and her front leg was twisted in an unnatural angle. Dean’s eyes widened as he forgot all about his pain and dragged himself closer to her, pressing two fingers against her neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, she can’t be dead, please, don’t let her be dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought in panic, tears already in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her eyes and Dean sighed in relief. She whimpered softly as she tried to raise her head. Dean shushed her, putting his hand under it. She relaxed against his hand as Dean looked for any other injuries but she didn’t seem to have any. Dean assumed the blood wasn’t her but from whoever broke in—and Dean couldn’t help but be proud of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled proudly at her. “That’s my girl. We’re gonna go to the vet and set that leg, alright, sweetie? You’re gonna be fine, I promise. Cas will take good care of you,” Dean’s voice broke as he thought of Cas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Four years building a relationship, full of trust and love, all for it to go down the drain in one night—because there was no way Dean would just leave it this way and he knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>who had done this to him. Dean’s veins began to fill with anger, making his vision go red. He was ready to stand up and go kill whoever did this to him and Jo, but she whimpered again, making his shoulders slump as he looked back to her; he could kill the son of a bitch later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, girl, let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took her in his arms and stood up, being careful with her broken leg. He made his way to the garage, seeing more things broken along the way; the frames he and Cas had carefully chosen to display; souvenirs from the last trip they all took together; some things Mary had done in her school and gave to Dean that he couldn’t but put around proudly for everyone to see. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The fucker not only broke into my house, beat me and my dog up, he broke all my stuff? That sick son of a bitch is gonna pay so fucking much.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s anger started to build again but he pushed it down, knowing he could use it later. He had bigger things to worry about at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he got to the garage, he saw a baseball bat had been taken to the windshield of his other car and Baby was nowhere to be seen, the garage door open and fresh tracks on the ground. Dean couldn’t believe in what he was seeing; Baby, one of the most precious things in his life, his pride and joy, and one of the few things that had bee constant during his whole life was gone. Just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean couldn’t believe it. If it wasn’t for Jo in his arms, he would’ve broken down on the spot and would’ve stayed there. But, instead, he swallowed his pain and made his way to the other car. Screw it if it had a huge crack in the windshield, Dean was driving that shit anyway. Jo needed him to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put her gently on the passenger seat, making sure she was comfortable. He took the bat from the windshield as he walked to the driver’s side, throwing it to the other side of the garage with unnecessary force just to unleash his anger on something</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> and entered the car. He opened the other garage door and drove off towards the nearest vet. It had been a while since Dean had driven so fast but his body and mind still remembered it; his reflexes were almost as incredible as they once were, his brain seemed to know the exact second he needed to turn or step on the brakes as not to hit anything, and he just knew the spots he could drive through without scratching the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean had missed this; he had missed the adrenaline that coursed through his veins as he drove; missed the high he used to get a long time ago as he cut through the slow traffic of the morning; missed how good it felt to hold that much power in his hands. He could get all the cars near him to hit each other or something else if he wanted them to. All it would take would be a few sharp turns on the wheel, a few sudden taps on the brakes, and all the cars would hit something in a matter of seconds. Dean felt fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. That wasn’t who he was anymore; he had left that life behind for a reason and he wasn’t letting himself go down that road. Not again. Or rather not </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>; he could go to that life after he took care of Jo. Once she was taken care of and safe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean would worry about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, Dean focused on the road ahead of him and on Jo. She seemed pretty okay, staring at him with her big, blue eyes. The blood around her face was already dried and Dean felt a sudden wave of pride. She had his back when he couldn’t do it himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scratched carefully behind her ear. “Guess I’m old, huh, girl? Got beaten up in my own house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She only tilted her head at him, blinking slowly. Cas appeared on his mind again and Dean shoved the thought down. He couldn’t deal with that at the moment; he had to focus on one thing at a time. He needed to get Jo to the vet and make sure she would be okay. Then he could worry about everything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He braked abruptly in front of the vet, pressing his hand against the horn. He needed someone to be in there or he would have to go somewhere else. Thankfully, the door opened and a very tired looking, skinny young man appeared at the door, staring at Dean with squinted eyes. Dean stepped out of the car, hurrying to the other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need a vet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy’s expression turned incredibly serious and he nodded. “I’m a doctor. What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took Jo in his arms again, closing the door with his foot. “I think she broke her leg but I’m not sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy hurried Dean inside, widening the door for him. Dean walked inside and followed the guy through the clinic quickly, not paying attention to his surroundings until they got to a big white room, with a metal table against one of the walls. The guy pointed it out to Dean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Place her there, I’m just gonna grab what I need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean placed her gently on the table, careful with her leg. He stood by her side, running his hand on her head slowly. The guy didn’t take long before he was back in the room, a bunch of things on his arms. Some of them were known to Dean and he knew how much it sucked to have to go through all of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let the guy work in silence, just watching as he worked on Jo’s leg and trying not to get in his way. Dean kept petting Jo, just trying to keep her calm and still, but she seemed to be doing a lot better than he was, letting the vet do his thing, while Dean was nervous and anxious and wanted to take the guy’s hands from her every time she whimpered. He knew it wasn’t the guy’s fault but that didn’t make it any easier to see her suffering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And to think that I used to do worse to people without a hint of hesitation</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought as the vet finished wrapping her leg with a bandage, now that it was in the right position. The vet checked her to make sure there weren’t any other injuries before taking his gloves off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to her? She has all of this blood on her and none of it is hers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugged, keeping a deadpan expression. “Someone broke into my house and she defended it. The son of a bitch broke her leg but she got him worse, apparently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vet nodded with a small smile as he threw what he used in the trash. “Well, she seems completely fine. She’ll be in pain for a couple of days because of the leg, but I would rather keep her here for a few hours to make sure there’s nothing I could’ve missed and that she is definitely okay, give her something to stop the pain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, whatever’s best for her.” Dean smiled as he lowered himself to press his head against hers. “See, girl, told ya you would be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She licked his face before closing her eyes and bumping her head against his cheek. The vet smiled as he took a clipboard from the table on the other side of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go clear a place for her and get the painkillers. Would you mind filling this out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took the clipboard. “Yeah, sure. Oh, I’m Dean. So sorry for not saying anything before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vet smiled and waved him off. “Totally understandable. I wouldn’t have thought about it either. I’m Garth.” He shook Dean’s hand before walking out of the room again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean used the wall as support to fill the paper Garth gave him. It was all pretty normal stuff—his name, her name, phone number, address. Dean put Cas’s address with a broken heart, knowing he couldn’t stay there with her; not until he found the person that did this to them, and she would be better off with Cas; the last thing Dean wanted was to put her in the middle of the crossfire again and risk getting her even more hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put his phone number just because he didn’t want Cas to find out just yet. Dean needed some time to get his things in order and to put everything he would need together before sending her to Cas. And he knew it would be harder to leave if Cas showed up at his house, asking for an explanation Dean couldn’t give him. Dean could never tell Cas the truth, no matter how much it would hurt them both.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doing his best to push those thoughts away, Dean finished filling out the form as Garth entered the room. Dean handed him the form, which he gave a quick look, humming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Mr. Winchester. You’re welcome to stay but she’ll probably sleep for a few hours after I give her the painkillers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem. I actually have some stuff to deal with and I’ll feel better knowing she has someone to look after her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garth smiled at him. “She’ll be in great hands, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean lowered himself to be at Jo’s level. “I’ll be back in a few hours, okay, girl? You be good to the doctor until I get back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She licked his face and then bumped her head against his. Dean took it as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>—or the closest thing to a yes a dog could give—and stood up, walking to the door. He saw Garth make his way to Jo, scratching behind her ears as she stared sadly at Dean as if she knew Dean wasn’t coming back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It broke his heart to leave her, knowing he would barely see her after, only enough to say goodbye if even that, but he had to. Dean swallowed his hurt, making his way out of the clinic. He got into the car, staring at the clinic with tears in his eyes before driving away, and made his way to the person he hoped would know where Baby was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean didn’t even see the drive, his mind miles away from the car as he thought about Jo and Cas. Good thing that his brain knew the route well enough for Dean to drive almost on muscle memory alone or he surely would’ve gotten into an accident. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got to Bobby’s in less than twenty minutes, parking the car along with the others outside. It looked exactly the same as always and Dean couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. He made his way inside with ease, the smell of grease and smoke instantly filling his nose, making him feel like he was home.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked around the shop, nodding at some of the familiar faces there, and searched for Bobby’s face. One of the workers—Adam, Dean recognized—pointed him to the end of the shop, where a man in a dirty blue cap was sitting beside a black ‘65 Mustang, a glass in his hand, another on top of the hood along with a whiskey bottle. Dean nodded his thanks to Adam and walked towards Bobby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t need to get too close for Bobby to start pouring some whiskey into the other glass, holding it up as Dean stopped in front of him. Dean didn’t need much more than that to know Bobby’s answer: Baby wasn’t there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sank on the chair next to Bobby, heart tightened. He took a sip of his whiskey before speaking, “She ain’t here, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby shook his head. “She was, boy.” Bobby moved his gaze to look into Dean’s eyes. “Bartholomew Turgenev stole it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michael’s son.” Bobby nodded. That wasn’t good news for Dean. That was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> news to Dean. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How hadn’t I recognized that idiot yesterday? I knew he looked familiar.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it was going to be hard to kill the kid, oh no, that would be easy. The fucked up thing was that Michael Turgenev was exactly the guy that helped Dean get out of that life—or the one that manipulated Dean into doing what he needed someone to do in order to free Dean from his ties with the Turgenev family. As much as Dean hated the majority of the Turgenev family, he would rather not have to go after them if he could avoid it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little shit thought he could barge in here and say whatever the fuck he wanted,” Bobby snorted and took a sip of his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do, Bobby?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What else, boy? I punched him and told him to get the hell out of my shop before I punched him again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled despite the situation. “That’s the Bobby I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby clinked his glass against Dean’s. “Nobody comes into my shop and says whatever the hell they want. One punch wasn’t even half of what he deserved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does he know it was my car that he stole?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him either, but his daddy will know as soon as he sees it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean nodded before he downed the last of his whiskey, placing the glass on the hood of the car. Bobby stared at him with a raised brow. “What’cha gonna do, son?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need a ride, Bobby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, boy. Why do you think this one is here?” He tapped his knuckles on the hood of the Mustang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took the glasses and the bottle from the hood, and stood up. Dean also stood and turned to look at the car. He couldn’t say that the car wasn’t nice; it was all black and shiny, and it actually seemed a little like Baby, though it could never get to her level.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby turned to him, resting against the wall behind him. “Is the dog okay? The fucking kid said they hit her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, she’s doing fine. She practically ripped a piece of someone’s leg and they broke hers, but she’s already at the vet. I made sure she was okay before coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good.” Dean nodded and walked to the driver’s door. Bobby’s voice stopped him from opening it, “Dean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his head to look at Bobby. “Yeah?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think well before doing some shit, okay? You have a good life now. Don’t throw it away over nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t let it pass, Bobby. My deal with Michael was that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> would come after me, that’s the only reason why I did what I did. I’m not gonna pretend nothing happened just because it’s his fuckin’ son; it’s exactly because of that that this should’ve never happened. I have a name and I plan on keeping it if I want to be left alone. Fuck me if I’m lettin’ this slide.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby nodded. “Alright, boy. Just think before going around, guns blazing, alright’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiled as he opened the car’s door. “Bobby, I’m the king of thinking straight and y’know it.” Dean winked before getting inside the car, seeing Bobby rolling his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The key was already in the ignition so Dean just turned it, bringing the car to life. Bobby waved at him before Dean pressed the gas pedal and drove off. He wasn’t sure what he was going to yet, so he did the only thing he could think of: he made his way back home at the highest speed he could muster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take him long to get home, parking the car abruptly in front of the garage. The doors were still open, letting the sunshine inside the garage. As Dean climbed out of the car, he noticed blood drops in Baby’s parking spot. He assumed they were probably from whoever Jo bit—and Dean really hoped it was from Bartholomew, that fucker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean walked through the garage, closing the two doors behind him. He made his way to the hidden door on the right side of the garage, going for the little box he kept on one of the shelves of the shelving unit next to it. No one knew that box was there, not even Sam. Dean put it here when he first moved into the house and never touched it again; he never had a reason to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened the box, grabbing the only thing inside it: the keys to the hidden door and to what it was hidden behind it. He took a flashlight from the shelf, turning it on. Dean opened the door and walked down the narrow stairs, the flashlight illuminating his path. There weren’t many steps, just enough for Dean to be able to stand straight, his head barely brushing the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There weren’t many things there, only a hammer and one part of the floor in a slightly different colour; where Dean once broke the concrete and buried everything he had from his past. When he did it, he was hoping he would never have to break it again, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew that the odds of having to break the concrete again and take everything in it were higher than not having to. But Dean was ready to do it and he was more than eager to jump into his old skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put the flashlight on the floor and took the hammer instead. Taking a deep breath, Dean raised the hammer with both hands and slammed it onto the floor with all his strength. The sound of concrete breaking filled the space around him and Dean raised the hammer once more. He slammed it down and raised it, over and over again, ignoring the new wave of pain that mixed with the bruises. He pushed past the pain and kept going until he got to the metal box under it, containing everything he needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean let the hammer fall to the floor as he let out a deep breath. He was sweating and breathing rapidly as he kneeled to take the box. It wasn’t heavy, making it easy for him to pull it. He retrieved the keys and the flashlight, putting the latter between his shoulder and cheek to illuminate the lock. He unlocked the box and opened it, revealing the smaller guns he had, ammo, and a stash of coins at the top. He took the upper part from inside the box, placing it by his side. Under it, there were two suits, the only ones he had at the time that weren’t covered in blood or gunpowder or didn’t have any knife cuts or holes from being shot at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was staring at the clothes, hands gripping them tightly, when the phone started to ring; the phone only a few people had the number to. Dean knew who it was even before answering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Dean,” Michael greeted him. Dean said nothing and Michael continued after a few seconds, “I heard about your father’s death. My condolences.” More silence from Dean. “It’s, uh, it seems to be that fate, or happenstance, or just bad fuckin’ luck caused our paths to cross again, right?” Dean still didn’t say anything, hand closing in fist by his side, jaw clenching in anger. “Dean? Let’s not resort to our baser instincts and handle this in a civilized way, so we can move o—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean hit the phone, cutting the call. He was never one to waste too many words and he was sick of that bullshit, and if Michael thought he could just call Dean and say he didn’t need to do what Dean was about to, then Michael still didn’t know Dean at all; or he was just too fucking stupid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned back to the box, taking a deep breath, and grabbed one of the suits, two guns and a few coins from it. He retrieved the flashlight and the keys, and made his way back upstairs. Dean locked the door, putting the key back in its place and the flashlight on the shelf. He walked to the door to the house, the traces of blood still on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean didn’t need to worry about that just yet; more blood was about to be spilled and he knew just the guy to call to get it cleaned up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went to his room, leaving the guns, the suit, and the coins on his bed. He got rid of his bloodied clothes, throwing them in the laundry basket. He saw bruises all around his abdomen and he was sure that there were some on his back as well. Nothing he wasn’t already used to it and he knew more would appear soon enough.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got under the shower, determined to get one last moment to relax before becoming the old Dean Winchester; the assassin, the last thing many men and women saw before they died, the Baba Yaga. Dean spent those six years away from that life, telling himself that he wasn’t that guy anymore and that he didn’t miss being that guy, but damn, was he wrong. Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> being that guy and he was more than ready to jump back into his old skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After Dean finished getting ready—his guns were on him and the coins were in one of his pockets—he sat  in front of the table in the living room to do the last thing he needed before going back to his old skin. He knew Michael couldn’t just let Dean kill his son easily; that wouldn’t fit well for someone as powerful as Michael. And he knew Michael would send people to try to kill him that night, that was just who Michael was. Dean once was the guy sent to kill other people for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And after killing everyone and anyone Michael sent after him—and Dean knew he would kill all of them—Dean wouldn’t stay in his house, he would need to go to the Continental. And what hurt Dean the most was not leaving his house or leaving the civil life behind. No, it was leaving Cas and Jo behind, along with Mary and Sam and Eileen. And Dean couldn’t just leave them behind without a word, without any explanation whatsoever. Sam and Eileen would know the reason and would tell Mary any believable crap about why Uncle Dean wasn’t there anymore. It would hurt but she would understand and end up moving on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas was a completely different story. Cas was one of the people that Dean could never picture understanding what he did and what he was about to do; Cas was one of the most moralistic people Dean had ever met. Not that it mattered anyway because Dean would never tell him about the kind of life he had. But Dean needed to at least try to give Cas a little peace of mind as to why Dean suddenly disappeared and left him and Jo behind; Dean didn’t want to lie to him but he didn’t have much choice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Dean grabbed several sheets of paper and forced his brain to work for a change. Dean was never the most open person about his feelings and Sam usually said Dean could be compared to a chair in that matter; usually involved saying the chair would be better at it than Dean. He wasn’t wrong, though. The first time Cas told Dean “I love you”, Dean replied with a “Noice” and a clap on the shoulder; and they had been together for almost a year at the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This would be the last chance for Dean to make things right and give Cas the treatment he deserved; or at least do the best he could in the worst possible scenario. That compelled Dean into pouring his heart out in the letter, fighting the tears that came to his eyes as he wrote. Who would’ve thought that Dean Winchester, one of the most skilled assassins in the world, could be such a romantic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, it didn’t take Dean too long to finish the letter. His hand hurt from writing so much so fast, his handwriting </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> unreadable, but he was happy with what he wrote. Maybe happy wasn’t the right feeling, but that was the gist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean read the letter to himself when he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Angel, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry for writing all of this in a letter and not saying it directly to you, but I don’t think I would ever be able to do this looking into your eyes. Yeah, I know, what a freaking coward, but y’know that I really am a coward when it comes to feelings, especially about you. It was already hard enough to force myself to write this to you and I won’t even be the one to give it to you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. I know I don’t say it aloud a lot but I do. I hope these last four years were as great for you as they were for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I was with you in my whole life. And I know I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I also know I’ll never love anyone like this again because you’re the one. As much as I don’t believe in all of that fairy tale crap, you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span> the love of my life, my soulmate if you will, and no one will ever take your place.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t really explain why I’m writing this letter to you right now or why I’m saying what I’m saying. I’m so sorry for this, but I could never handle what you may think of me if you knew the truth; I could never deal with the hatred and the fear I would see in your eyes if I did. You would always ask me about my tattoos and my scars, and I would never tell you the truth about them. I have a feeling you know it’s a dark secret, and it is. One that I can never tell you about because I love you too much to do it. If you knew, you wouldn’t love me anymore and I cannot live knowing you don’t love me. Yeah, it’s selfish but I’m a selfish guy sometimes, even more so when it comes to you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I didn’t have to disappear like I’m about to do or leave you and Jo behind, but I need to. I can’t put you or her in danger for something that’s all on me. I love you both too much to be </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> selfish and I could never live with myself if something happened to either of you because of me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You won’t find me if you come home, or if you try to call me, or if you go after Sam. None of those will work, especially because I don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want</span>
  <em>
    <span> it to work. I know it’s a jerk thing to do, just disappear from your life like this, but, if I need to be a jerk to save you, then I will be. I don’t care how much of a jackass that makes me as long as you’re safe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, Castiel Novak, so much. Never forget it. Thank you for being the most amazing man in my life and for giving me the best four of all my forty years. I hope you don’t hate me after this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With all my love and forever yours, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean Winchester.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t seem like the worst thing Dean had ever written and he hoped it would give Cas some peace of mind. He also could only hope that Cas wasn’t going to hate him for it. He placed the letter inside an envelope and sealed it before he wrote Cas’s name on it with a sigh, his hand shaking with sadness. He only needed to leave it with the vet now so Cas could get it along with Jo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was about to stand up and grab the car keys when the doorbell rang. He frowned and slowly took one of the guns from his waistband, quietly releasing the safety. He walked slowly to the door, looking through the peephole to see who it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was Sam. He put the gun back in his waistband as he opened the door. Sam didn’t have a nice expression and Dean thought that maybe he’d felt relieved way too early. Sam barged in, not waiting for Dean to say anything, feet stomping on the floor as he walked angrily.</span>
</p>
<p><span>Closing the door, Dean turned to him with an arched brow. Sam was staring at him with his jaw clenched and muscles tensed, arms crossed on his chest as he stared at Dean with a scowl. Dean knew he was about to hear a lecture about what he was about to do. He was used to it; he had</span> <span>heard hundreds of lectures while growing up with Sam. What was surprising was </span><em><span>how</span></em><span> Sam found out about what Dean was going to do. It’s not like his brother wanted anything to do with that life and he wasn’t in any of the gossip groups.</span></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it, Bobby.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he crossed his arm on his chest. “Alright, Sam. Let’s hear it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you fucking insane, Dean? You wen through all of that work to get out of the life and now you’re just gonna throw yourself back in it? What the hell’s wrong with you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, that was easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Dean kept his voice light and calm, “Sam, you know me. You really think I’m gonna let that little shit get away with it? He stole Baby, he beat me up, and he beat </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jo</span>
  </em>
  <span> up. Nobody does that and lives to tell the story. You know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam’s shoulders slumped as he sat on one of the chairs. “Dean, man, you have a life now. You have Jo, Cas, me, Eileen, Mary. You really gonna give all that up because of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span> who doesn’t know shit about anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not letting him get away with it, Sam. It’s against my nature. And if I do, other people will start to think they can do whatever the hell they want to me. And I ain’t letting that happen. The one thing I thought wouldn’t happen after I did that insane task Michael asked from me was someone coming after me, let alone his fuck up of a son.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. “Dean, man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I thought you had left that life behind. You said it yourself, you didn’t want anything to do with it ever again. Let it go. Why throw away the life you built for yourself over this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean scoffed, walking towards the table. “I’m sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>have you met me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? ‘Cause, if I’m right, I don’t let shit go that easily and you fuckin’ know it. So, you’re the one who should give up on trying to change my mind, Sam. I’m doing this and there’s nothing you can do. And you know Michael, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’ll send his men after me even if I don’t do anything. If there’s one thing Michael ain’t, is stupid, and he won’t quit it just because I asked him nicely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam just shook his head, staring at the ceiling with an exasperated expression. Dean knew he wasn’t convinced and that he was probably thinking of what else he could say that would change Dean’s mind. Well, Dean wasn’t one to be persuaded that easily and if there was one thing that Dean knew about himself, was that he’s stubborn as fuck and that he would always be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting on the chair beside Sam, Dean stared into his brother’s eyes, using his most honest and brotherly voice, “Sam, I have a reputation and if I let him get away with coming into my house and stealing Baby, everyone will think they can do the same. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do this. Who knows, someone could come after you and Eileen and Mary. Or even Cas. I can’t put any of you at risk, that ain’t me, man."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam turned to him, hatred burning in his eyes. “So what, you’re gonna go after Bartholomew, kill him, and then just go back to living as a civilian? That easy? Then what, move to another city, another house, and find someone else to share your fucking bed? Like you did with Cassie and Lisa?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That hit Dean harder than he expected and he had to use all of his will not to throw himself on top of Sam and punch him. “You know that wasn’t what I did with them. And you don’t get to talk about Cas like that! He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone with whom I just fuckin’ ‘share my bed with’ and you fuckin’ know it! He’s… he’s the freakin’ love of my life. He’s so much better than I deserve and I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> find someone like him again. Do you think it’s easy for me to just leave him, without a decent explanation of why? We’ve been together for four fuckin’ years, Sam, don’t you ever think this is easy for me.” Sam lowered his eyes, ashamed, and Dean knew he regretted what he’d said; not that it made his anger go away any easier. “And if I need to break his heart to make sure he’s safe, then I’ll do it, without thinking twice. I could never forgive myself if something happened to him ‘cause of me.” Dean stood up, getting the house keys from the table and throwing them to Sam who almost dropped them on the floor struggling to get them. “Do whatever the fuck you want with the house, tell whatever you want to Mary about me disappearing, ‘cause I’m doing this and there’s nothing you can do to talk me out of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam sighed, staring down at the keys in his hands. “Do you at least have a plan? Guns, money, somewhere to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean scoffed. “‘Course I do. What the fuck do you think I am, stupid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam stood up, putting the keys in his pockets. “Let me know when you’re done and safe. Eileen and I will keep an eye out, and we’ll help you with whatever you may need. Just… don’t get yourself killed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was thrown off by the sudden change in Sam’s speech, staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I can’t change your mind, at least I can try to help you not get freaking killed. And I can find somewhere else for you after all of this. We’ve lived apart for too long and I don’t want to do that again, and I don’t want Mary to grow without you. She loves you too much for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, a sudden weight off of his shoulders. “Thanks, Sammy.” Sam smiled at him and started walking to the door. Dean looked at the table and saw the envelope with Cas’s letter. “Sam, wait a sec.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam turned to him, a brow raised in question. Dean took the envelope of the table and handed it to him. “Jo is with a vet, not far away from here. Can you go get her and take her and this to Cas’s house? I don’t want to just disappear without him knowing what the fuck happened to me. Just,” Dean hesitated. “Make sure you give it tomorrow. Y’know, so I won’t be here when he comes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking the envelope from Dean’s hand, Sam nodded with a sad look. “I will.” Sam turned again, opening the door but stopping once more. “And Dean, I know you think Cas will never want to see you again, but you should think this through. Cas may not be as fragile as you think and I’m sure he would be more than understanding about this if you gave him a chance.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Sam walked out of the house, closing the door and leaving Dean with his mouth hanging open. </span><em><span>What the fuck was all that about?</span></em> <span>It didn’t make any sense for Sam to say something like that. How could Cas be understanding about this? What, Dean was supposed to just go there and say </span><em><span>hey, so, I’m an assassin and this fucker, who’s the son of a guy I used to work for, stole Baby, beat me and Jo</span></em> <em><span>up, and now I’m going after him to kill him. You’re cool with that?</span></em><span> Fuck no, Dean could never talk to Cas about who he truly was. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Pushing those thoughts aside, Dean shook his head and sighed. He knew Michael well enough to know what his next steps would be; Michael knew that Dean was coming to get his son and Michael needed to at least pretend to avoid it, even though he knew Dean could never be avoided. Michael’s first step would be to send as many men as he could to Dean’s house during the night to try to kill him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Dean was already prepared. It wasn’t a wonder that he got his guns from where he had safely hidden them; he would need them for the killing. He should also call Benny and book a time with him. The house was definitely going to need it and Dean was sure Sam wouldn’t be too happy to come to the house and see all the blood on the floors and walls. Yeah, definitely something Dean needed to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t long after night fell that Dean saw men walking around his house. They were incredibly quiet, all equipped with guns and what Dean knew were bullet proof vests. But Dean was ready for them just as he was always ready for whoever came after him; he took one of his guns out of the holder on his waist, releasing the safety trigger and quietly cocking it. The weight of the gun in his hands was comforting and Dean felt at ease with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he looked through the windows, he tried to count how many there were but it was too dark and he couldn’t be sure. He only knew it was somewhere between ten and twenty. Dean scoffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael isn’t even trying that hard.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean heard as the men opened the doors of the house—which he had left unlocked intentionally—so he turned the light off in his room and took a deep breath. He was incredibly calm, nothing but a sinister feeling of peace inside of him, hands unbelievably steady and firm. Maybe he should’ve been scared of how easily he fell into his old skin, but he had more to worry about. He could think more about that later—or never, more likely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked to the door to his room, arms raised, gun already positioned. He stayed in the shadows of the walls, footsteps so light that even he could barely hear them. There were already three men—that he could see—on the second floor, so Dean just pressed the trigger, hitting the first one on the head, his body falling to the door with a muffled </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean grabbed one of the second man’s arms, raising it as the man shot and hit the ceiling, and Dean shot the third guy in the knee. He heard him grunt in pain and his gun fall from his hands with a clank on the floor, and then Dean shot the one he was holding by the arm, first in the stomach and then in the head as well. He then shot the third man in the head, his body falling on the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another man came to the end of the stair, shooting blindly at Dean, but Dean was faster; he jumped across the railing to the first floor, rolling to support his fall and shooting the guy once he got to his feet. The bullet hit his stomach so Dean shot again, this time in the head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around him, Dean saw a ray of light coming through the corridor to his left. There was an outline of a man coming his way, so Dean got up,walked swiftly towards him and shot before the man could even see Dean. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean made his way to the wall behind him, cocking his head to look across the room. He changed the clip on the gun, throwing the used one on the floor. He heard footsteps on his left and waited until he knew the guy would be close enough before pushing himself off of the wall, hitting the man’s arms until his gun fell to the floor. Dean tried to hit him in the head but the guy held his hands, stronger than Dean thought he would be, and he tried to shake him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean changed his tactics, grabbing the man’s arm and pulling him to throw him against the wall behind them. The man grunted as Dean hit his head against the wall until he passed out, letting him fall to the floor. Dean saw another guy coming from across the room, so he placed his foot on the man’s chest in case he woke up and waited until the other man appeared close enough to shoot. He then shot the one he was holding down and stopped to take a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he looked around the room, Dean kept his ears open for anyone that could be too close to him. No one was there yet but he knew there was someone coming; his sixth sense was tingling and the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. Dean walked to the other side of the wall, stopping to look before walking to the corridor. There were lights coming from the end of the hallway and Dean raised his gun. He could see that there were two different lights, which meant two different flashlights. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran across the corridor, jumping on top of the first man, circling his legs around him so they would both fall down, with Dean on top as Dean shot the other guy twice and then shot the one under him. Another guy came in, taking a shot at Dean, but Dean pulled the man under him as a human shield and then shot at the other one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, the man swayed and hid himself behind the wall that separated them. Dean let go of the dead guy and also hid behind the wall, gun still raised. He made little steps, listening to the guy doing the same thing on the other side. He crouched down knowing that the guy would take the shot as soon as he saw Dean. So, instead, Dean shot at the man’s knee when the wall ended and then shot his head. The man fell to the floor and Dean turned around, looking for anyone that could be behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t anyone, which led Dean to sigh in relief and stand up. He changed the clip once again, throwing it behind him, and walked away. He made his way silently to the other end of the room—why the hell did Dean get a house so big?—trying to listen for anyone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean got to the kitchen, seeing another flash of light from behind the wall. The guy must have heard Dean because he took the shot, but Dean held his arms and pushed him down, the bullet hitting the floor loudly. The guy pushed him against the wall, grunting and still trying to shoot Dean. None of the shots got to him but another guy came, probably following the sound, and Dean shot him before the guy could even think of taking the first shot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy Dean was holding hit Dean’s arm, making the gun fly from his hand. Dean then pushed him to the kitchen, hitting the man’s back against the counter and forcing him on top of it. The man grunted as Dean let go of him and went after his gun. Yet another guy came, reaching for Dean’s gun, so Dean kicked it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean punched him in the stomach as the guy tried to hit him, and Dean defended all of his tries, blocking the moves with his arms. He held one of the man’s arms and then punched the guy in the throat, making him gasp for air. Dean used it to grab his arm, pull him over his shoulder and throw him on the floor. The guy on the counter got Dean by surprise, punching him and making him hit his head against the counter as he saw the other man go to the knife holder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean swept his legs under the man until he fell to the floor and then kicked his face until he was unconscious—or dead, Dean wasn’t entirely sure yet. Dean then turned to the other, holding his arm before he could have a chance of stabbing Dean. They fought mano a mano, the guy pushing Dean backwards, Dean still holding the arm with the knife away from his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lurched out of the kitchen as they fought, and Dean managed to get a hold of the other guy’s arm and grab the knife out of his hands. He pulled the man’s arm behind his back, pulling it hard until the man groaned, as his other arm tried to get to Dean. Dean finally succeeded in throwing the guy on the floor, pinning the man’s arms on the floor and plunging the knife into the man’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy gasped and tried to grab at Dean’s arm, but he pulled the knife out. Dean only then realized that the guys were wearing black masks with holes for the eyes and mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuckin’ idiots, as if that’s going to change anything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean couldn’t hear anything else around the house and he thought that maybe he got all of the guys, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He looked around, the knife gripped tightly in his hand, knuckles turning white. He almost failed to notice one last guy running behind him, but Dean crouched and the man tripped on him, falling on his back in front of Dean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy still managed to shoot at Dean, the bullet hitting him in the shoulder. He grunted, the force of it pushing him back, but he got his balance quickly. He threw himself on top of the guy, kicking the gun out of his hands. Dean pressed the guy’s arms under his legs and stabbed him with the knife. The guy squirmed under him, so Dean made sure to stab him a few more times, until the man stopped moving—just in case and not at all for fun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean wiped the blood off of his face with his sleeve when the doorbell rang. He raised his head, frowning, looking around him to make sure there was no one moving. He dropped the knife by the guy’s side and stood up. Trying to smooth his suit, Dean made his way to the door, red lights shining through the windows. Dean sighed, knowing exactly who was behind the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, with no surprise at all, he saw Jody when he opened the door. She stared at him in boredom. “Evenin’, Dean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean nodded a greeting. “Jody. Noise complaint?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Noise complaint.” She looked behind Dean, raising a brow. Dean also looked behind him, seeing the two bodies on the hallway. “Workin’ again, Dean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shook his head. “Nah, just setting a few things straight. You know how those work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well.” She smiled knowingly at him. “I’ll leave you be, then. Just… keep it down a little bit, will ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course, Jody.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Dean.” She started to walk away and Dean smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Jody.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made her way to the car and Dean waited for her to leave before he closed the door. He walked back through the house, looking in all the rooms to make sure he got everyone and that no one was hiding. There was at least one body in each room, most of the floor covered in blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good thing I called Benny. He’s gonna have a hell of a job today.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Checking his watch, Dean noticed it wasn’t going to be long before he was there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Timed it perfectly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean went back to the kitchen, grabbing his gun from where he kicked it. He checked the clip, releasing it when he saw there weren’t any more bullets. He changed it and put the gun back in its holder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he walked to the sink and grabbed a glass. He filled it with water and drank it calmly, staring at the body on the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thing I ain’t cooking here again,” he said to himself, chuckling. “Man, do I have problems.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The adrenaline rush Dean got from the killing started to wear off, grounding him back to the world. He didn’t feel as bad as he thought he would after killing so many people. He didn’t know if that was good or if that made him a psychopath, but he was sure he would rather not know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take long before the doorbell rang again. Dean placed the cup on the sink and made his way back to the entry of the house. He opened the door, revealing a tall man, dressed in a dark jacket, a light scruff on his jaw, a cap on his head, and cigarette in the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benny smiled at him. “Good to see ya, chief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benny.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benny came inside the house, five other guys along with him, suitcases in their hands. Dean noticed the black van outside, the one he hadn’t seen in six years. Benny stared at him, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing out smoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looking good, Dean.” He waggled his eyebrows at Dean, looking him up and down. “Was afraid you had left all of this behind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benny put the cigarette back in his mouth as he watched his men spread through the house. Dean rolled his eyes but chuckled softly as he closed the door behind him. He watched as the guys started getting everything out of the cases they had. They pulled out cleaning supplies, bags, and a whole bunch of stuff Dean didn’t know the name of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean watched as they did their job; bodies being placed on the white plastic sheet, the guns following shortly after; the blood being mopped off the floor or cleaned out off the windows. Benny also watched, sometimes telling them what to do, lighting cigarette after cigarette. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t make small talk, because both of them always hated that, but they shared the cigarettes in companionable silence. Dean had missed smoking, even though he wasn’t exactly a smoker, but it was good to have the nicotine blanking his mind, giving him a different high than the killing had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guys started to roll the bodies on the sheets, wrapping them around in what Dean was pretty sure was the same way that he used to put things away in the fridge. Slowly, the corpses were taken off to the van, each at a time, other guys mopping the floor to make sure all the blood was taken care of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean heard two men upstairs with mops and cleaning products, and two others went down the stairs, holding a body between them. He had almost forgotten that he had killed someone right outside of his bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean and Benny walked out of the house, stopping right before the van. Dean saw all the wrapped bodies inside and he counted them; fifteen. Yeah, Michael wasn’t trying hard enough. He must have known that Dean would kill all of them easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Probably sent only those so he wouldn’t lose a lot of men.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benny blew out some smoke, throwing the cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. “Guess this was an easy job for ya, huh, chief?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled, putting one of his hands in his pocket and grabbing the coins he left there earlier. “You know it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He handed the coins to Benny, who counted them as he spoke, “So, are we seeing you anytime soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Benny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean started walking back to the house as Benny said, “Night, chief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed the door behind him as he heard the van’s engine being turned off. They took off and Dean sighed. He had more pressing matters now and it was time to go back to the Continental.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bartholomew Turgenev</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After Dean finished getting his things ready to leave, he stopped at the door and looked around the house with his heart tightened at the thought of losing it and having to walk away. He knew that the chances of him coming back were slim, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at best</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that didn’t make it any easier; he had so many great memories in this house and it was the first place that he had called home after losing his mother. Leaving it was the last thing Dean wanted to do, even knowing he had to. He was pissed as hell but he embraced it; he could use all of that anger right now, as much of it as he could manage to get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the other house keys on the table by the front of the door along with a note to Sam: </span>
  <em>
    <span>As I said before, do whatever you want with the house. D.W. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean knew there was a big chance that Cas would be the one to read it first but there was nothing he could do; he could only hope that the letter would get to him first.</span>
</p><p><span>With a tired sigh, Dean made his way to the garage, the suitcase heavy in his hands like a foreign weight. Not seeing Baby there filled Dean with a kind of hatred he hadn’t felt in years and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to killing Bartholomew Turgenev—that little shit had it coming for years. He was </span><em><span>more</span></em><span> than looking forward to it; that anger filled him with a high he hadn’t felt in six years and he </span><em><span>fucking</span></em> <em><span>missed</span></em><span> it. A lot.</span></p><p>
  <span>Dean placed the suitcase in the trunk of the borrowed car, closing it after with a loud noise. He took another deep breath, hands resting on the closed trunk and his eyes closed. If he was about to do it, he needed to fall completely back into his old skin; he needed to be the cold, calculating Dean Winchester and nothing more. He had to go back to being the not-to-waste-any-words kind of man, the one that didn’t show any emotions, no matter what they were. Nothing more than a cold-blooded assassin; the Baba Yaga.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one last sigh, Dean walked to the car, opening the driver’s door and getting in. He turned the engine on and opened the garage door. As he put it in reverse, he noticed a car parked on the other side of the street, but it didn’t seem to have anyone in it. It seemed weird to Dean, especially because the closest house to his was at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> a mile away and no one had ever stopped that close to his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stopped as the garage door closed, trying to see if he could recognize the car. It wasn’t what hou would call a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> car; it was a ‘78 Lincoln Continental Mark V in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>dirty yellow and it seemed so freaking old. Dean didn’t know anyone who had a car like that—he also didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> anyone would have a car like that—so he brushed his concerns off. Maybe the person just ran out of gas and parked the car there. Dean was probably being too paranoid; if the person was there to kill him, they wouldn’t have just stopped there and let him leave—or so Dean thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and started the car again; he had barely gotten back to the life and he was already </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> paranoid. It wouldn’r do him any good to get like that so soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean drove calmly through the streets, barely enough traffic at that hour of the night. He may have gotten a little out of his way to be able to pass in front of Sam’s house, but it was just to make sure everything seemed okay. Mary and Eileen were outside, Mary running around the backyard, laughing loudly as Eileen tried to catch her, Eileen also laughing as Mary zigzagged around. Dean smiled sadly as he drove past the house with a heavy heart. One of the only things he wished he could do after his mission was to go back and see Mary one last time before disappearing again; Dean would do anything for that to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean also drove past by Cas’s house, seeing the lights on in the living room. If Dean knew Cas well enough—and he did—Cas would be buried in his books for whatever case he got that day, barely noticing anything around him. It filled Dean with a whole new level of sadness, one that he didn’t want to deal with. Dean had to force himself to keep driving and not stop to just give Cas one last kiss and say how much he loved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean also drove past by Cas’s house, seeing the lights on in the living room. If Dean knew Cas well enough—and he did—Cas would be buried in his books for whatever case he got that day, barely noticing anything around him. It filled Dean with a whole new level of sadness, one that he didn’t want to deal with. Dean had to force himself to keep driving and not stop to just give Cas one last kiss and say how much he loved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt Dean a lot more than he thought it would to pass by the house and drive towards the highway. He had to fight against the tears,  but, if there was one thing Dean had in himself, was sheer fucking will. So he kept on driving, pushing his feelings away as the city was left behind and he got closer and closer to New York, doing his best not to think about what and who he was leaving behind anymore. Dean was a pro in that matter and it wasn’t too hard after a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t missed the city at all and it looked the same as it did when he had left; big buildings all around, one hell of a traffic jam, people walking by with their heads buried in their phones, headphones in their ears, no one even looking up, so many lights on that didn’t even seem that it was the middle of the night. Yeah, Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t missed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being stuck on the traffic inside New York was annoying and Dean was regretting his choice. Even though he knew he needed to go to the Continental and that the fucking kid was probably hiding somewhere in the city, Dean did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be here. He felt tired just by breathing that poisonous air, and having to wait on the traffic lights with miles and miles of cars in front of him was one of the most boring things Dean had ever done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as Dean got closer to the Continental, the traffic died down to only a few cars on the road and things started to get calmer. Dean thanked the fact that civilians stayed away from the Continental, which made things a whole lot easier for him and the other assassins. Dean managed to drive a whole lot faster after that and he got to the Continental in less than half an hour. The sun was starting to rise in the horizon, giving things around Dean a soft light that he could almost say it was pretty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He parked in front of the Continental with a heavy sigh—those were starting to become routine by now. The building seemed exactly the same to him and there wasn’t much movement. He stepped out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. Dean saw as the people started to recognize him, some talking to the others with hushed voices and staring at him with wide eyes. He fought against the smile that came to his lips; six years away and he hadn’t lost his image. That was good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around him, Dean saw the same Lincoln Continental parked on the other side of the street—well, Dean thought it was the same one. Even the colour was the same. It bugged Dean because it seemed a hell of a lot like there was someone following him and Dean didn’t like it at all. He tried to see if he could see anyone inside it or around, but he found no one. There was only a woman near it; she had curly, light brown hair, wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket, her eyes were covered with a thick sunglasses that almost didn’t let Dean see much of her face, and she seemed to look at the space around her as if she was looking for someone. She seemed to lock eyes with Dean for a fraction of a second before quickly turning and walking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned at her weird behaviour. She also seemed incredibly familiar, though Dean couldn’t place his finger on why; and it was getting annoying when Dean was so proud of his memory. He watched her for a few seconds as she stopped by a tall man’s side, dressed in a black trenchcoat, also with sunglasses on his face, and slightly turned away from Dean. She whispered something to the man and Dean thought she nodded at him.</span>
</p><p><em><span>Okay, this is getting ridiculous.</span></em><span> Dean shook his head and turned on his heels. Making his way to the counter, Dean saw Rowena</span> <span>raise her eyes to look at him. She adjusted her glasses with a small smile. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Winchester. Good to see you again, sir. Are you staying with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded, arm resting on the counter as he slid a coin to her. “I am. Is the manager in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always in. You can find him in the lounge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowena handed Dean a key. “Room 818. Should I send your things to your room, dear?” Dean nodded and thanked her with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean started to walk away, Rowena’s voice following him, “And, as always, it is a pleasure to have you with us again, Mr. Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded once more before walking, ignoring the expression of surprise in people’s faces. He didn’t pay too much attention around him and that almost got him to knock his shoulder into a woman. She turned to him with a bored expression. She had an earphone in one of her ears and she chewed bubblegum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean. Always good to see you again.” She smiled fakely at him, blowing a bubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding back a heavy sigh, Dean replied, “Lilith. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not a pleasure seeing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile only grew, voice almost a purr., “Oh, come on, darling. We had lots of fun once, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never had fun with you, Lilith. Now, if you excuse me, I have things to deal with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked away without another word but he felt Lilith’s gaze on his back. Just seeing her eyes was enough to give Dean the chills; he wasn’t afraid of many things but those eyes weren’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They were so clear that Dean could’ve sworn they were white if he didn’t know it was impossible.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Walking up to the lounge, Dean saw a few people sitting on the chairs around, some with laptops, others with books, and some talking to each other. If Dean didn’t know any better, he would say it was just a normal lounge with normal people, not the assassin elite. Dean almost scoffed at that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Assassin elite. Now </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>a good name for a movie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran his eyes around the lounge until he saw the person he wanted; Crowley. The manager was reading a newspaper, attention seeming to be solely on it, but Dean knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t. Crowley always knew everything that was happening around him, whether it was by seeing everything or through what he called his ‘little birds’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley noticed him, folding the newspaper in front of him calmly as Dean walked towards his table. Dean sat at the chair opposite of Crowley, not bothering to greet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the kid, Crowley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your respect, Dean? No ‘hello’ or anything?” Crowley placed the newspaper on the table, crossing his arms on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance. “C’mon, Crowley, you know what I’m talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I know, doesn’t mean you have to forget your manners.” Crowley smirked. “So, I guess you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting old, huh? Got beaten up in your own house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“News travels fast around here, huh? Then you know where Bartholomew Turgenev is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugged, taking a sip from his coffee. “I may know where he is but that doesn’t mean I’ll tell you. I know what you want to do to him, Dean.” Crowley shook his head with a sigh, placing his cup down. “Are you sure you want to get back ito this life? You left once and it was already hard. You know there are no guarateens of you being able to leave again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Den rolled his eyes and sighed</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>“I’m not coming back to this life, Crowley, I just need to set a few things straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean, but we both know that’s not true. I thought you had a life now; saving for your retirement, a niece, romantic crap. You’re throwing all of it away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed again, shoulders slumping. “C’mon, Crowley, don’t give me a lecture. I already got one from Sam and I know how to make my own decisions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shook his head, grabbing the newspaper again. “Apparently, no, you don’t. Sorry, Dean, can’t help you. I don’t know where he is and, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you not know? You have people everywhere in this state. Hell, in the whole fucking planet, probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley only shrugged, pushing his glasses up. “Doesn’t mean I know everything. You’ll have to go to someone else to get that information.” Dean started standing up to leave but Crowley spoke again, “You should know, Michael has a contract on you. Two million dollars. I would be careful if I were you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes and groaned</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>“Of course he does, that fucker. At least he ain’t stupid. You do know this won’t stop me from going after Bartholomew, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugged. “Of course I know. I just hope you won’t get yourself killed over this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smirked. “There’s a reason why they call me the Baba Yaga, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away, listening to Crowley’s soft snort behind him. Dean walked to the elevator, looking around him as he waited. People seemed to have gotten over seeing him there and they finally stopped staring at him as if he was walking on his hands and painted in silver paint. Dean was thankful, because he was sure it wouldn’t be long before he snapped at someone; which he didn’t want to do unless the person was Bartholomew Turgenev.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the elevator finally got to his level, Dean walked in and pressed the button to his floor. There was just him in it and Dean rested against the wall at the back of the elevator, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He wasn’t happy at being back at the hotel; he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t miss sleeping on the beds here—even though they were comfortable—and he didn’t miss having to deal with the people that also stayed here; for skilled assassins, they were incredibly boring most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dean was lucky enough for having the reputation that he did; it meant that most people left him alone whenever he was at the Continental. There were always the ones that wanted to talk or that didn’t know Dean all that well to know he wasn’t one for talking, so Dean would just give them one look that would make them go silent in just a second. Dean was very proud of that look and he hoped that it still worked like a charm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few people got into the elevator with him, nodding slightly at Dean. He answered with a tip of his head at them, keeping his eyes away from theirs. He left the elevator silently when it got to his floor, making his way to the room. He unlocked the door, turning the light on to see his bags by the foot of the bed. Dean closed the door, resting his back against it for a few seconds with his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was the same way as it always was and the same as all the other rooms were; it was large, a half-wall made of glass, a big TV on one of the ends of the room, a table with four chairs in front of it, a big bed on the other side, and a door that led to the bathroom. Dean threw himself on top of the bed with a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lost track of the time as he stared at the ceiling, with no thoughts in mind, startling when his phone rang. Dean fished it out of his pocket, heart tightening when he saw Cas’s name on the caller ID. He watched it ring until the call went to voicemail, only to start ringing again in less than five seconds. Dean continued to stare at the phone, wanting to answer but knowing he couldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew I should’ve gotten rid of this freakin' thing before leaving. It’s just going to make both of us suffer even more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas called a few more times after that and Dean let all of the calls go to voicemail until Cas seemed to give up. He then started to send texts to Dean, all of them asking where Dean was or what happened or why Dean wasn’t answering, saying that, whatever had happened, they could work it out if Dean just talked to him. Dean took a deep breath before turning the phone off and throwing it on the other side of the bed. Tears stung in his eyes and Dean swallowed the lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hastily wiped away the tears before he dragged himself out of the bed with a heavy sigh, going to his suitcase and grabbing a suit. Not a day had gone wearing a suit again and Dean was already missing his jeans and plaid shirts. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking job with its fucking suits. Why can't I just kill people in sweatpants? It would make my life a whole lot easier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean breathed out slowly and made his way to the bathroom, undressing and leaving his clothes on the way. He turned the water as cold as possible, losing his breath as he got under the jet, feeling like he was about to freeze to death. That urged him to take a fast shower, enough to wake him up and turn his mind blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under the water, he washed the last traces of the domestic Dean Winchester, pushing all thoughts of family, relationship, and pets out of his mind and into the box he hardly ever opened; the most important box he had and the heaviest one to carry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shivered as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing his towel and wrapping himself in it. Passing by the mirror, he stared at himself, running his fingers on his beard and through his hair. Dean wondered if he should shave or keep it that way, as he had been doing for the last decade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most people would probably recognize him with the beard and longer hair, and Dean didn't know if he wanted them to or not. It would be awesome to have people widen their eyes as they realized Dean was the one that was about to kill them; it always was. But, also, it would be fun not to have people know it was him, even though, as soon as he stepped out of the room, it would be spread all around that he was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screw it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought as he grabbed the razor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I won't be the same person that I was after this anyway. May as well make some big changes and not try to pretend I can actually go back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn't take long for Dean to finish shaving, running his fingers along his cheekbones to feel the soft skin. He picked up the scissors in the razor’s place and started to cut his hair, shorter than ever. He ended up doing a pretty good job with it, considering he hadn't done that in a few years; Cas had taken upon himself to cut Dean’s hair.Dean stared at his reflection for a few minutes, taking in his new image; it had been a long while since he saw himself like that. He hadn't missed it at all, but there was no going back now. He had to get used to that new image; and with his old self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored his red eyes, the dark bags under them, and how he already seemed to be thinner than before, cheeks hollow; or maybe it was just the beard that was masquerading it. Dean shrugged. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Screw what it was. I can worry about that later, when I'm once again running away from this fucking life or when I’ve hidden in yet another place.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean grabbed the suit and got dressed, throwing the wet towel on the bed. It hurt him to think how Cas wouldn't be there to curse him for it, giving him a lecture about the whole 'wet towel on the bed' thing. Shaking his head, Dean finished fixing his tie as his eyes landed on the phone on the bed. He knew Cas probably hadn't given up on calling or texting and, knowing Cas as he did, Cas would probably try to track his phone and Dean couldn't have that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without taking a second to think, Dean grabbed the phone and took out the chip before breaking it in two pieces. He then broke the phone itself in half, ignoring the pain that sprang through his fingers and arms, and threw the pieces against the wall, just so it would break some more. He hoped that would be enough to stop Cas from being able to track him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing his suitcase once again, Dean opened the not-so-secret compartment and started looking through the guns hidden there. He would probably need a few more but it would have to do for now. He needed to find out where Bartholomew was first and then he could worry about getting more guns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubted Bartholomew would be in any hideouts that Dean knew; if there was one thing that Michael wasn't, it was stupid.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or, maybe, he would think that I wouldn't think Bartholomew was hidden in one of those places because I know about them, and then Michael would put him exactly in one of them. Damn it. I'm gonna have to find someone that knows where he is. Crowley won't tell me, that's for damn sure, nor will any Turgenev; not sure if they’re more afraid of me or of Michael.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he put the guns in their holsters and closed the suitcase. He had to focus on one thing at a time. Not doing that was what could get him killed and that wasn't something he wanted. Dean checked himself in the mirror, making sure the guns weren't too noticeable and that he was fine to go out; the suit fit him nicely, his fresh shaved face seemed soft, and his expression was as serious as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the door of his room and walked towards the elevator, eyes open to any and every movement around him. Once people knew that he was back in the Continental, they would be all around him, for whatever reason that could pass through their heads. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And for the two million Michael has on your head, jackass.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he pressed the button insistently, trying to will the elevator to go faster. He just wanted to get all of it over with as fast as he could, not wanting to spend a second more than he needed in this place. He was already tired and he had barely begun doing his job. </span>
</p><p><span>When the</span> <span>elevator</span><em><span> finally</span></em><span> got to his floor, it was amazingly empty. Dean pressed the button to the basement, where the bar was, and waited as the annoying elevator song played through the speakers. </span><em><span>Six years and absolutely nothing has changed. Why am I not surprised?</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Dean adjusted the collar of his shirt, annoyed at how it seemed to be suffocating him, pressing against his throat. He slightly loosened the tie, not enough for people to notice but enough for him to be able to breathe. It didn’t make that much of a difference because he still felt like he was being suffocated and the tie still seemed to be cutting his airways. The walls seemed to be closing on him, the air slowly but surely getting thinner, and a weight seeming to settle on top of his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean did the best he could not to panic or start panting, trying to keep his breath calm and slow his heart rate down as he closed his eyes. He closed his hands into fists, inhaling deep breaths and following the rhythm of the song. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Dean walked quickly out of it, taking big gulps of air as he rested his back against the wall outside, using it as a way to ground himself. He kept his eyes open to make sure there wasn’t anyone to see him like that; getting beaten up in his own house was already too much, Dean didn’t need to have people know he had panic attacks as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he felt calmer, Dean pushed himself off the wall and adjusted his suit, smoothing the wrinkles on it. He looked at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors to make sure he looked presentable, fixing his hair and his tie, before turning and making his way to the bar. The sign on top of the door read “Harvelle” in big, block, red letters—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ellen hasn’t been here in ten years but she still has a name, huh?</span>
  </em>
  <span>—a security man in front of it, with crossed arms, making the muscles stretch the suit, and a mean expression on his face, jaw muscles tightened. The guy was taller than Dean, a lot more muscular, and Dean was damn sure he had at least three guns on him—as far as Dean could see, at least—but that didn’t stop the guy from getting a scared look on his face when he recognized Dean, tipping his head in respect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean searched in his pockets for one of his gold coins, handing it to the man in complete silence. The man stepped aside once he checked the coin, opening the door to let the music from inside pour out, and waved Dean in. Dean nodded at him before crossing the threshold, the door shutting softly behind him. He looked around the bar, the loud music and the flashing lights annoying to him immediately. Dean instead focused on trying to find anyone he knew—and that he could trust—but most of the people there seemed in be new to the business. Dean knew there was no such thing but he also knew that it was possible that he just didn’t know who the family of those were; after six years, people change a lot and Dean didn’t know everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also looked for ways to get out of there that weren’t the door he came in from if needed, assessing the best ways he could deal with a fight if one was started. Dean recognized Lilith at one of the ends of the room and she smiled seductively at him, raising her glass at him before taking a sip. Dean kept a deadpan expression while rolling his eyes internally. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She still hasn’t gotten over what we </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> have?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He also recognized Ash at the counter of the bar, talking to one of the men as he poured whiskey in a glass—a bigger shot than needed, probably. Dean sighed in relief as he made his way towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash smiled at him as he grabbed another glass from under the counter, filling with scotch and sliding it just as Dean put his hand to grab it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice seeing you here, Winchester. Back in business?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean downed the scotch in one go, the alcohol burning his throat, before answering, “Not really, just setting a few things right. Thought you might know something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash smiled as he poured Dean another drink. “I might. Is it about the Turgenev kid?” Dean’s expression was enough for Ash to know the answer, looking around the bar as he leaned closer to Dean, voice low, “I’ll only tell you ‘cause you’re my friend and I’m always up to get that kid a few bruises. He’s too much of a little shit for my taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as he nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “That he is. I’ll make sure to get some extra punches on him for you. Do you know where he is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. Michael put him in the Green Room. A bunch of security inside, guarding him, surrounded by more guards, civilians all around the place. Y’know, classic Michael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he swirled the scotch inside the glass. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Any idea who’s in charge there? Anyone I may know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash bit his lip as he thought, eyes scanning the bar. “From what I heard, Anna may be there but I can’t promise anything. Samandriel may be too, on door duty if my sources are right. Bet you can convince him to let you in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably. How’d a kid that nice end up in Michael’s service?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash raised a brow at Dean. “How did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> end up in his service?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled. “You make a good point.” He downed the scotch and slid the glass back at Ash. “Thanks, Ash. It was good seeing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, cowboy.  If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean tapped the counter before walking away, already planning on how to get to the Green Room and what to take with him. If Samandriel—Alfie, as Dean preferred—was really the one on door duty, Dean could probably get in pretty easily; the kid wasn’t hard to convince and Dean wouldn’t even need to use force against him. Not that he would, but he could still threaten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s path was suddenly blocked by a tall woman, almost causing him to bump into her. He was about to apologize when he recognized Lilith. He forced out a heavy, exasperated sigh through his mouth and crossed his arms. “What do you want, Lilith?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him with perfect teeth, her perfume nauseating him. “Is that a way to treat a lady, Mr. Winchester?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed. “Lady? You?” Dean laughed humourlessly. “Don’t fool yourself, sweetie. If there’s one thing you ain’t, is a lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lilith’s seducing expression almost fell off of her face but she recovered it quickly, leaning towards him. “Oh, love, if you knew what I think about you and what I do to myself when I’m alone, you wouldn’t say that.” Dean fought the disgust off his face and swallowed the want to throw up. “So much wasted potential with another guy. Especially with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stopped himself from getting his gun and shooting her right there and then, forcing himself to keep a neutral expression. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want to hear you talking about this, so I’m just gonna go. I have other, more </span>
  <em>
    <span>important</span>
  </em>
  <span> things to do than listen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lilith’s voice followed Dean as he walked away, “Oh, love, if only you knew what I’m talking about and how much you don’t know about your beloved </span>
  <em>
    <span>Castiel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than eager to listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That almost made Dean turn but he forced his legs to keep walking. Lilith was probably bluffing and lying to get a reaction out of him; that was what she always did. There was no way she could know anything about Cas or about their relationship; there </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be because Cas was amazing and no one from this place could know anything about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shook his head to get rid of her words and of Cas. He had other things to worry about and it wouldn’t do him any good to start worrying about something other than the job; that was how people got killed and Dean would rather not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made his way silently out of the bar, ignoring the long stares from the people in it, wanting to hide himself from them. Dean was never one to enjoy any attention on him, especially when it was from people he didn’t know or knew too damn well; none of the people there would stare at him with good intentions. None of them would stare at him like Cas did; a powerful, strong stare, but loving, adorable, and sweet at the same time. Dean shook his head angrily, sighing deeply through his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it, why do I always circle back to Cas? That’s how I’m gonna get fucking killed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A sigh of relief escaped his lips once he exited the bar and walked towards the elevator, giving another nod at the security guard. He tried to focus his mind on the job ahead of him, trying to remember everything he had learned about the Green Room when he was in Michael’s service; Zachariah was still probably there—that guy was one of Dean’s least favourites, he was one hell of a jerk—Raphael and Uriel along with him. Those were going to be hard to get by but Dean would be more than happy to kill them if needed; they would do the same to him if they had the chance. Alfie would be more than easy and Dean would send him home as fast as he could; Anna could be easy or hard, depending on her mood. If Dean knew her well enough—and he did—she would probably try to convince him not to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> would go with him to kill Bartholomew. He could deal with her either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was also Lucifer, but he normally stayed back, handling his bussiness while Michael handled his; though that wouldn’t stop him from coming to Michael’s aid if there was the need</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The annoying elevator song filled Dean’s ears once again as he rode it up, tapping his foot in anxiousness. He started remembering which guns he had packed and wondered if they would be enough to do the job. Dean would obviously steal a few more once he entered the Green Room, but he still needed to have a few on him to start the job; Dean was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> cautious guy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the elevator stopped on his floor, Dean walked quickly to his room, fishing the card key out of his pocket and opening the door even faster. There wasn’t anyone on the floor—that Dean could see—but it never hurt to be careful in the hotel; or anywhere, for that matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his suit jacket off, placing it carefully on the bed and went straight to his bag, opening it and taking his clothes out of it, placing them neatly on the end of the bed. He then took the guns and ammo out of it, placing them along the bed. Grabbing some cartridges, Dean placed them on his belt, making sure he had enough for at least ten more rounds. </span>
</p><p><span>He also grabbed two guns, MK23s without the suppressors, putting them on each side of his belt, slightly up his waist for easy access. He checked the knives in his bag, picking the Gerber StrongArm and rolling it around his hand to check the grip. Dean smiled as he</span> <span>held it between his fingers, blade facing down. He put the sheath back on it and slid it under his sock, adjusting his pants on top of it.</span></p><p>
  <span>Dean checked himself to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything before getting his bullet proof vest from the bag, closing it around him; not tight enough to restrain his movements but not loose enough to put him at risk. Dean then shrugged the suit jacket back on, smoothing the wrinkles on it after closing the buttons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed one more gun—a M1911A1—putting it in the inside pocket of his suit. Dean checked himself on the mirror, flattening his hair to look more presentable—not that it would matter, anyway, but Dean liked to look good in all circumstances. He turned to walk to the door, getting a glimpse of a piece of paper on the floor. Dean frowned as he crouched down to grab the paper, opening it. There was an address written on it, “Green Room” beneath it and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good luck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no doubt from Ash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Dean pocketed the paper and left the room, locking the door behind him. He nodded at one of the other occupants of the floor as he made his way to the elevator, the man nodding back. Dean was in a better mood as he listened to the elevator song, humming along with it and watching the numbers change on the panel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded at Rowena when he passed by her heading to the front door of the hotel, his car stopping right in front of the stairs. A clerk nodded at Dean as he kept the driver’s door open for him, and Dean thanked him with a quirk of his lips. He stepped on the gas pedal and drove towards the Green Room. Michael had made the mistake of putting Bartholomew in a place Dean knew and that just helped to improve Dean’s good mood. He turned the radio on, letting Metallica’s songs fill the empty space in the car, and hummed along, his mood keeping up even in the heavy New York traffic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dean parked across the street from the club, he watched from inside the car for a few moments; there was a long line of people waiting to enter it, the green neon sign illuminating them. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Certainly that isn’t the door Bartholomew would use to get in; no fucking way the kid would submit himself to wait along the others. Not when his daddy owns the whole club.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean looked for another door, keeping an eye out for Alfie; if the kid was really here, Alfie would certainly be on door duty because Michael never took him seriously enough to give him a more important job; his loss because Alfie was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stepped out of the car, Dean finally recognized some of the men that walked from the other end of the street; Zachariah, Uriel and another man. He watched from the other side of the street as they walked past the line outside the Green Room to a door a little farther away, talking to the security guard outside of it. Alfie opened the door to them, nodding to each one as they entered, closing the door after. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least I know I’m in the right place. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked to a tree closer to the door and waited under it for a few minutes to make sure no one else was going to go in or out of the place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crossed the street with his head down, right hand going to his gun in his suit, closing his fingers around the grip. Alfie didn’t seem to see him, looking at the opposite side of Dean, and he took the opportunity to get his gun and point it to Alfie’s head—just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see ya, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfie slowly turned to look at him, expressionless. “Mr. Winchester. Wish I could say the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean kept his aim steady. “Still working for Micheal, huh? You should look for another job, Alfie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not many people would hire me, sir. This isn’t something I can just put on my resume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled, lowering his gun. ”It sure isn’t, but why don’t you take the night off? On me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfie smiled as he took his earpiece and let it fall to the ground. “Thanks, Mr. Winchester. Always nice to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to see you too, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfie handed a card to him and Dean handed him a few coins before he walked away, hands buried in his pockets. Dean watched him go until Alfie turned the corner, just then turning to the door, opening it carefully and slowly. There was a guard behind it and Dean held the door open with his foot, putting one of his hands over the man’s mouth to stop him from screaming, grabbing the knife from under his sock and stabbing the guy with it. He waited until the man stopped squirming before he lowered him carefully, without making a noise, and let the door close. He looked around the room, seeing two other men: Zachariah in front of the mirror and Uriel close to the lockers, both in robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked slowly towards Uriel, keeping his back against the lockers. He waited until Uriel had his back to him and Zachariah wasn’t looking at the mirror to grab Uriel by the neck, one hand pressed against his mouth, and stab him, slowly lowering his body until it fell to the floor with a quiet thud. Dean hid behind the lockers as Zachariah looked through the mirror, eyes widening as he saw Uriel choking on his own blood. Dean didn’t hesitate to walk towards Zachariah as he turned, punching him in the throat. Zachariah fell to the floor, wheezing as he tried to breathe, and Dean grabbed the collar of his robe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Где Бартоломью?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zachariah managed to give an ugly stare at Dean, hands grasping at Dean’s. “Fuck you, Winchester,” he said between gasps of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean punched his nose, feeling the bone break under his hand, and Zachariah groaned in pain, raising his hand to it as blood poured down. “I’m only going to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Dean turned Zachariah to pull him closer, locking his arm under his neck and pressing against it. “Где Бартоломью?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zachariah tried to pull Dean’s arms away from him, groaning and trying to suck in breaths. Dean tightened his hold until Zachariah croaked, “Downstairs… he’s in the steam room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled. “See, was that so hard?” He let go of Zachariah’s neck just so he could hit his head against the sink, staining the white porcelain with blood. He repeated it a few more times until Zachariah was barely conscious, then pressed his face in the sink, opening the tap and holding Zachariah’s head as the sink started to fill. “You stole Baby, hit me and Jo.” Dean lowered himself until his mouth was close to Zachariah’s ear and whispered, “You’re getting off easier than you should but, man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> it give me pleasure to finally kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zachariah tried to make Dean let go of him, choking as the water covered his mouth and nose, but Dean snapped his neck and let his body fall to the floor, head slumping to the side. Dean looked around him to make sure there wasn’t anyone else, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. He grabbed Zachariah’s phone and the knife from Uriel’s neck, cleaning it on his robe and keeping it tightly in his hand, and walked out of the room. He made his way to the steam room, being careful as not to attract any attention to him; it would be easier if he could get to Bartholomew, kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> first, and then kill the rest. No reason for him to give Bartholomew any chances to escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to kill most of the guards silently: a stab in the base of the skull in one, stab the other under the chin, one in the lungs and leaving him to asphyxiate to death, and the last one in the neck, one hand on the man’s mouth to keep him silent as Dean watched the light leave the man’s eyes with a sick pleasure burning in his gut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean saw Bartholomew through the shelves between them, the kid inside the hot tub with women all around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not enough to be a thief and a sick son of a bitch, he needs to overcompensate too. Fuckin’ idiot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean was planning on how to get to Bartholomew when a man—that definitely wasn’t on Dean’s plans—showed up out of nowhere. The guy reached for his gun but Dean batted his hand away, the other holding the knife tightly. Dean tried to stab the guy but he blocked Dean’s movement with one of his arms, the other trying to reach Dean’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it, why does he have to be so strong?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy managed to push Dean towards the shelves, knocking them and the shelves down, the noise echoing throughout the space, along with women screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean fought mano-a-mano with the guy, throwing the knife from one hand to the other as he tried to stab him, but the guy was fast; he blocked Dean’s movements, almost making Dean drop the knife a few times. Dean swept his leg under the man’s feet, dropping him and throwing himself on top of the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean grabbed the guy’s tie and pulled it to choke him, his other hand going to grab one of his guns. He shot the two men coming from one end of the room, being careful not to shoot any civilians—because of course there had to be civilians there, why couldn’t his life always work out perfectly?—catching Bartholomew reaching for his own gun. The man still squirmed under Dean’s hold, hands trying to grasp at Dean’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, just die already, man, you’re getting annoying,” Dean said as he aimed his gun at Bartholomew, making him freeze. If Dean didn’t know any better, he would say Bartholomew was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> expecting that. Dean smiled as he lowered his aim, shooting the guy under him in the head, not breaking eye contact with Bartholomew; playing with his targets’ heads was always something Dean enjoyed doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean let go of the man under him and walked towards Bartholomew, almost hitting a man coming out of the tub. Dean sank the knife in the man’s chest as the man held his other hand. He groaned as he tried to aim at Bartholomew, but the man moved too much and Dean couldn’t keep a steady aim. He settled for stomping onto the man’s foot and pushing him away from him, firing three shots on him before aiming back at Bartholomew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little shit decided to grab a woman to use as a human shield, not giving Dean any chance to shoot at him without killing her as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking wimp. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean put his gun back in his pocket as he stabbed another guy close to him. Bartholomew pushed the women into one of the tubs once he got behind the glass, running towards the stairs at the end of the hall. Dean shot at him but he was faster and the bullets lost their strength once they hit the glass. Dean groaned as there were gunshots from behind him, making him turn and shoot at the guards coming from the other end. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There guys are really starting to piss me off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he changed his clip and put another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran to where Bartholomew disappeared, shooting at the guards behind him; he managed to take three down, the rest shooting at him as he ran up the stairs. Dean killed the guards that also came through it, jumping on top of their bodies without losing his speed. He lost Bartholomew when he got to the floor, hundreds of people dancing too close together for Dean to be able to find anyone there. The music was loud and didn’t let Dean hear the guards that ran towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one even seemed to realize that there was a fight happening until Dean shot at the guards coming from the other end of the room, two bullets at the closest one to him, one for each man on his right and two on the man on the left. Only the people that were close enough to hear the gunshots screamed and looked for cover, the music quickly drowning them out. Dean looked around the room, trying to find Bartholomew, until he saw him climbing the stairs at the end of the room, head snapping back and forth as he stared at Dean with wide eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, run, you little shit. You’re just gonna make me mad and I can’t wait to get you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean quickly made his way up, thankful when he got to a well lit room with no music on, allowing him to distinguish the civilians from the guards and shoot at them without doubts. There were a lot more in that room, emptying Dean’s clip way too quickly. He threw the gun at the man closest to him, reaching for the second gun and shooting at the two on his right. Dean ducked and rolled away from the last one, hiding behind a pillar before shooting the man’s foot. The man fell with a scream and Dean shot him in the head, examining the room around him before standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t anyone else and he made his way to the next room. Dean kicked the door open, knocking two guards out as he shot at the third one. He shot the two on the floor just to be safe. He threw himself on the floor when a bullet ran a few inches from his face, looking around him before aiming at the guard on the floor under him and shooting, the body dropping with a loud thud. Dean made sure there wasn’t anyone else there before standing up and walking to the next room; a copy of the other dance floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Dean changed the clip of the gun before shooting the guard closer to him and at the two on the dance floor below, their bodies falling between the people dancing. Barely anyone seemed to notice, some people just stepping on top of them as they danced. Dean grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s fucked up.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>More guards came from behind Dean, making him turn to shoot at them, the clip of the gun emptying too soon for Dean’s liking; he had just changed it. He threw the gun at the head of one of them, sweeping his leg under the other and making him fall. Dean grabbed the gun from his hand, kicking the guy’s face before shooting at it and then shooting at the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to see more guards coming, one of them managing to hit Dean square in the chest two times before he managed to roll away, almost making him lose his breath with the impact. It felt like Dean had broken his ribs as he fought to get his breath back, feeling the bruise starting to form. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank fuck for the vest</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More people seemed to notice the fight, screams starting to be heard on top of the music, and most of them running away, making it  difficult for Dean to see who was a civilian and who wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shot at one of the guys before standing up, the other hitting Dean with a punch. Dean grabbed the guy’s collar as he fell to the floor to pull him along, Dean turning them so he would fall on top. He tried to shoot at the guy, his hand being batted away by the other. Dean groaned as he missed two shots, raising his other hand to punch the guy under him. Before he could, he felt a sharp pain on his side and felt the hot blood pouring out of it, soaking his suit. He looked to see the man with a broken bottle in his hand, managing to bat it away before the man turned them and stood up, pulling Dean by his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to sink his elbow on the man’s neck to make him let him go, but the man threw him over the rail first. Dean groaned when he hit the floor, feeling the blood pour out of the wound and all of the air being punched out of his lungs. He forced himself up, following the people that were leaving the Green Room, keeping one hand on his wound to lessen the bleeding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He locked his jaw to keep himself from groaning, limping as he stepped down the small steps at the front of the club. The phone in his pocket started to ring and Dean fished it out of his pocket, answering it without checking the caller.</span>
</p><p><span>“Захария, где тебя черти носят?” Bartholomew’s scared</span> <span>voice came through the speaker.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Zachariah’s dead. У всего есть цена, придурок.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean threw the phone away, smiling when he heard it crash on the pavement, and made his way to his car, trying to keep the pressure on the wound. He rested his back against the car to check it; most of the broken bottle had gotten through the vest, and that was Dean’s luck or he would probably have bled out before he managed to get back to the Continental. He entered the car with difficulty, turning the engine on and driving back to the hotel. Dean drove with only one hand while keeping the pressure on the wound, cutting the traffic as much as he could, earning a few honks and name-calling for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored them in favour of driving even faster, sighing in relief when he finally saw the Continental at the end of the street. Dean parked in front of the hotel, dragging himself out of it with a groan of pain. He limped his way up, hand still clutched on his side, ignoring the curious looks from the people in the lobby. Rowena raised her eyes from the computer in front of him with a deadpan expression but Dean could see the small smirk on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded at him. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night. Is the doctor in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Should I send her up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded, staring down at his clothes before looking at Rowena again. “How good is the laundry service here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Rowena’s lips quirked slightly. “Oh, dear, you know that’s a stain that won’t come out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled. “Yeah, was afraid of that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to walk to the elevator, stopping when Rowena spoke again. “Would you want a wee bit of scotch, Winchester?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, a whiskey sounds amazing, thanks,” Dean said as he started to walk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He limped his way to the elevator, hissing when he put more pressure on the wound. Dean let most of his weight on his good leg, watching the numbers change on the panel as the elevator got closer to his floor. He saw Lilith at one of the tables farther away from him; she had a mischievous smile on her red lips, hair in a ponytail, and Dean could see the way her hand went to her waist, probably for the gun she kept there. Dean did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> like the look on her face and he knew something was up. The only thing that made him feel a little calmer was the fact that there couldn’t be any business done on Continental ground, but he knew he should be careful when he left again; knowing Lilith like he did, she would be on top of him like a hawk at the first opening she had, especially with Michael’s contract on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One more person—that Dean didn’t know—got in the elevator with him, eyeing him suspiciously. Dean couldn’t blame them; he looked like he just had gotten back from a freaking war and he probably didn’t have a good look on his face. If they knew who he was, they would either get more scared of him or think he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> was getting old. Dean didn’t remember a time he had gotten so beaten up on a job; he would usually get out of a fight as if nothing had happened, maybe just a couple of bruises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got out of the elevator on his floor, clenching his jaw as he walked, trying to ignore the pain in his leg and on his side. He left a trail of blood along the way and Dean could feel himself getting dizzy; he would need a whole night of sleep to be able to go out the next day. There was no way he could fight after all the blood he had lost, unless the doctor had something for it and Dean wouldn’t be surprised if she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the door and leaving it slightly open, Dean let himself fall on the closest chair to the door, sighing in relief when he got the weight off of his leg. He fought to get his suit jacket, shirt and bulletproof vest off, leaving them on top of the table, and kicked his shoes off. Dean pulled one of the stripes of his pants, giving a look at his hurt leg; there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> bruise on his calf, black and purple, there were a few scratches that Dean didn’t even remember getting, and his ankle hurt more than it should and was extremely swollen. Dean sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s probably sprained. Great, just fucking great. Exactly what I need.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on the door before it was pushed open, and a young girl walked in, a suitcase on one of her hands and a whiskey bottle in the other. She had long, dark hair, clear, blue eyes, and a tight expression on her face. She handed Dean the whiskey before placing the suitcase on the table, giving him a look up and down, tsking as she shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled as he opened the bottle. “Think you can fix me, Doc?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled the other chair closer to Dean, sitting as she opened the suitcase. “There's a reason why I work here, Dean, you know that. If there’s someone who can, it’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you’re my favourite doctor, Alex, though I still think you should go work somewhere else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged as she started to pull things out of the suitcase. “I like working here. I have protection and I always have great cases. I doubt I would see half of this in a hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled. “You make a good point, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a long swing of the whiskey, feeling it burn his throat with pleasure. Alex started to work and Dean did his best to stay still, only moving to drink the whiskey. She worked carefully but decisively, as if she was more than used to doing this on a daily basis—and Dean knew she was. Dean groaned when Alex started to stitch the cut on his abdomen, eyes closed, his jaw clenched, and barely breathing until she was finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dean opened his eyes, it was to see Alex with a small smile on her lips as she put the needle and thread back in the suitcase. Dean rolled his eyes but took a sip of his whiskey to fight off a smile of his own. Alex moved to work on the scratch on his calf, putting Dean’s leg on top of hers. He groaned when she pressed the left side of his foot and she frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s definitely sprained so I’m gonna need to put something on it. It’s gonna hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you’re gonna do that </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex smiled deviously. “You know there isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean groaned and took a large swing of the whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Alright, just do it then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex worked on adjusting his ankle, moving it left and right as Dean hissed and groaned, hand closed in a fist, wrapping a bandage on it after. She stood up to get ice from the fridge, putting them inside a plastic bag and placing it on top of Dean's ankle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try keeping the ice on it for twenty minutes every two hours to stop the swelling and not put too much weight on it. You know, like running around and stuff."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled. "You forget who you're talking to, Alex. Anything you can give me in case I end up needing to move too much?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fumbled inside the suitcase, grabbing a bottle of pills and putting it on top of the table. "Take two of these. You'll bleed like hell, but you'll be able to move and won't feel pain while it works."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seems good. Any chance of OD’ing with this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex rolled her eyes as she put everything in its place. "You know there is. Just don't take more than five at once and you're good. Six hours between each intake is fine, though it would be best if it was ten."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded as he took the bottle. "As long as I don't die from the blood loss, we're good. Thanks, Alex."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not a problem. Just don't get yourself killed, alright? I would hate having to give the news to Sam and Castiel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean tried to keep his expression emotionless, choosing to stare at the bottle in his hands, rolling it around. "Yeah, I would hate for that too. But how do you know about Cas?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged as she raised her head to look at him. "Almost everyone knows, Dean.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>How in the fuck do they know?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “People tend to keep tabs on everyone, even if they're not working anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course they do, these fuckers." Dean rubbed his hand on his face with a sigh. "Well, not that it matters anymore, anyway. It's not like I'm just gonna go back to him and live our apple-pie life again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should at least consider it, Dean." Alex placed a soft hand on top of Dean's, making him raise his eyes. "You never know how okay he could be about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled humorlessly. "People keep telling me that. But I don't think this is something I can just tell him, Alex, but thanks. Tell Jody I said hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex stood up, grabbing her suitcase. "Will do. Be careful."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My middle name's careful."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex rolled her eyes with a soft smile, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly before walking out of the room, the lock clicking as she closed the door. Dean sighed sadly, staring down at the bottle in his hands. The ice on his ankle was starting to get too cold, burning his skin under the bandages, but Dean didn’t make a move to take it off. He only stared at the bottle, eyes glassy and unfocused, processing the information that people knew about Cas when he had been so careful for them not to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything he did to protect Cas from these people, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dean couldn’t believe it; he left to go after the Turgenevs, breaking up with Cas, leaving Jo, Sam, Eileen, and Mary behind to protect them. Sam and Eileen would be okay, Dean was sure of that; both Sam and Eileen knew how to handle themselves and no one would go after them if they knew who they were… But Cas? He could fight but Dean wasn’t sure he could fight the people that could go after him, and Michael wouldn’t even hesitate on going after Cas to manipulate Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>ON an impulse, Dean jumped out of the chair, the bag of ice falling on the floor, and limped to the phone, punching Sam’s number in it. He didn’t even feel the pain in his ankle. He sat at the edge of the bed, pressing the phone against his ear and listening to the beeps as it called. He shook his healthy leg up and down, letting the other be slightly up. He sighed as he waited for Sam to answer the phone—if he even did—practically praying to whatever force existed out there to make Sam answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” When Sam’s voice finally came through the speakers, Dean’s shoulders relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy, hey, it’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean? Why are you calling at,” Sam paused as if checking the clock, “two in the morning? Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gave a look outside and at the clock on the nightstand with a grimace “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, it’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Dean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. “I was talking with Alex a few minutes ago and she said that most people here know about Cas, and I… I don’t know, I’m just afraid. What if Michael decides to go after him to use Cas against me? I can’t put Cas in danger like that”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighed and Dean knew he was rolling his eyes. “Cas can take care of himself, Dean, I’m sure of it. He’s a tough guy, even if he doesn’t show it.” Dean opened his mouth to answer but Sam cut him off, “But I’ll check upon him tomorrow, if it makes you feel better. He was okay when I left Jo there, though he asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s heart broke as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can imagine but… I can’t change my mind now. And thanks, for, uh, for looking out for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my family too, Dean,” the smile in Sam’s voice was practically audible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Sammy, I’ll let you go back to sleep. Talk to you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful, Dean,” Sam replied before hanging up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean put the phone back in its place with his heart a little lighter; at least he knew that Sam would keep an eye out for Cas and that he and Eileen would be careful until Dean finished the job. He pushed his pants down, throwing them on the other side of the room, and stood up, being careful with his ankle. He went to his suitcase, grabbing boxers and a shirt, deciding against taking a shower; he was too fucking tired for it and it would have to wait until morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to the bathroom to put on his pyjamas and brush his teeth, using the counter as support. He stared at his face in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, noticing the many bruises he had; there was one on his eye, a few on his jaw, and a few cuts from the punches he took. He washed his face, cleaning the blood from the cuts, and dried his face on the towel, a few blood stains visible once he lowered it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he walked back to the room, grabbing the ice pack and pill bottle, taking three with a sip of his whiskey, and let himself sink onto the bed. He tried to adjust himself in the most comfortable position, placing the ice pack on his ankle, and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come to him soon.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Translations:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>1. “Где Бартоломью?” —&gt; “Where’s Bartholomew?”<br/>2. “Захария, где тебя черти носят?” —&gt; "Zachariah, where the hell are you?”<br/>3. “У всего есть цена, придурок.” —&gt; "Everything has a price, asshole.”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. It Would Be Better if You Didn’t Try to Kill Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sleep did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> come to Dean soon; he became uncomfortable way too soon and all the muscles in his body seemed to be complaining along with his brain, the ache annoying and painful, images and more images of people he loved hurt because he hadn’t been able to save them. There was noise in the hallway outside the room that annoyed him and would wake him up when he was almost asleep, making him open his eyes with a groan every time. He wanted to go out there and put a bullet in the brain of whoever the fuck was out there that wasn’t letting him sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the noise finally stopped and Dean was almost asleep, his mind finally starting to turn blank and his muscles numb, there was the sound of glass breaking and a bullet going all the way through his pillow, a couple of inches from his face. Dean jumped out of the bed, looking through the window to find out where the bullet came from. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he couldn’t see who or where it came from, and he rolled across the bed until he fell on the floor, escaping another bullet that hit the middle of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked behind the bed to see a woman with a gun pointed right to his face. Dean swore as he rolled to the end of the bed, not stopping until he was on the other side. Silenced shots hit the carpeted floor, followed by a voice, “Hi, Dean. It’s me, Lilith. I missed you so much, honey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean groaned as he looked for something to protect himself with. “Don’t you think you’re getting too obsessed with me? Breaking into my room ain’t exactly something that screams healthy relationship, Lilith.” He tore the bandage from his ankle, rolling each end on one of his hands and grunting with the pain of moving it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought I could let myself in. Wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of your beauty sleep, sweetie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean peeked through the top of the bed, seeing Lilith hiding behind one of the pillars. He pushed himself up towards her, grabbing Lilith’s arm that was holding the gun and wrapping the bandage around it as she shot, making her miss his foot by a fraction of an inch. Dean held her other arm, sliding the bandage around it so she wouldn’t be able to aim, and hit her arms with his free one until she let the gun fall from her hand with a grunt. Dean then pulled the bandage to her neck as it unwrapped from one of her hands, circling it and pulling until it pressed against her neck, making her wheeze for air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t think the amazing and badass Lilith would get out of bed for anything more than five million. Aren’t you better than that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Lilith managed to give him a superior look, hands grasping at his arm. “Michael’s gonna give me seven for breaking the hotel rules. More than enough to run away after this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, better than anyone, should know that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lilith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled himself to pull the bandage and Lilith along with it over his back, throwing her against the floor. He could feel the blood starting to pour out of his wound and groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just got the fucking stitches, man.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Lilith up, the bandage loosening up from her wrists. She took it to her advantage, knocking her arms against Dean’s and making him lose his hold on the bandage. She threw him to the other side of the room, a grunt forcing itself out of his mouth when his back hit the floor, the edges of his vision blacking out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting back to his feet, Dean turned to look at Lilith as she bit one end of her jacket. The phone started to ring as Dean ran back to Lilith, trying to hit her in the stomach as she grabbed his arm and tried to pull it towards her. Dean grunted as he forced her to walk backwards until they hit the couch, Dean on top of her. Lilith punched his wound, making Dean huff and lose his hold on her, and Lilith forced their positions to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took the jacket from her mouth, passing it around Dean’s neck and tightening it. Dean fought to breathe, legs pushing him out of the couch uselessly. He at last managed to sit, pulling Lilith on top of his back as they both fell to the floor. The phone still rang annoyingly and Dean knew he should answer; if he didn’t, someone would probably come up and he didn’t want to have to deal with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rolled on the floor, Lilith ending up on his back again as Dean pushed himself up. He walked them to the wall, knocking Lilith’s back against it three times, trying to make her lose her hold on him. Dean grunted when she seemed to tighten it, struggling to pull her arms out of his neck. He was almost out of breath and he would pass out soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lilith pushed her legs against the wall, forcing Dean to walk until they fell on the bed, Dean face-first on the mattress and Lilith on top of him. She knocked her knee against Dean’s ribs and Dean huffed as the scarce air was expelled from his lungs yet again; Dean was getting annoyed by it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pushed against the floor and they rolled to the other side of the bed, Lilith under him this time. She put her legs around him, locking them and stopping Dean from moving around, and pulled his arm behind him with one hand, punching his wound with the other. Dean grunted in pain as he felt the stitches snap open, more blood pouring out. Dean managed to push himself up, holding Lilith with his other arm, and walked backwards until Lilith’s back hit the TV, the glass breaking around them, and kept on hitting until her hold on him loosened up and he threw her on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed one of the sheets of the bed, circling it around her head and neck tightly, and punched her face until she fell limply on the floor, only a soft grunt coming from her. He knotted the sheet around her and Dean sighed in relief, breathing in as much air as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked to the phone, answering it as he watched Lilith, “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowena’s voice came from the speakers, “Mr. Winchester, I apologize for calling at this hour but we have received a few wee noise complaints on your floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean watched as Lilith struggled to get the sheet out of her, groans coming out of her mouth. “My apologies, I had a sudden guest I had to deal with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you need a… dinner reservation, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, I’ll have to answer later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean hung up the phone and, grabbing Lilith’s gun at his feet, walked to the open door to see Lilith dragging herself across the floor, trying to get to the elevator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna go away </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lilith? Just when things are starting to get fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She groaned when she heard Dean, head falling to her chest. Dean circled his arm around her neck, pulling her up, and aimed the gun at her temple. “Where’s Bartholomew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, I’m not telling you anything,” she mumbled through the blood in her mouth, spitting it on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean grabbed a strand of her hair, pulling it backwards as he pressed the gun harder. “Where’s Michael?” Lilith fought against his hold, lips thinned. Dean sighed. “C’mon, Lilith, is this how you wanna die? In the Continental and for those assholes? You’re better than that and they certainly don’t deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spat blood onto the floor again, rolling her eyes. “Fine. There’s a church in Little Russia, used as a front. Michael’s been keeping his private stash there. I don’t know if him or Bartholomew will be there, but it’s your best choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then.” Dean knocked the gun against her head, Lilith falling limply to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gun cocked behind Dean, making him freeze and sigh. “Do I know you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned as he turned slowly, hands raised. “Rufus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rufus stared at him with squinted eyes. “Son of a bitch, Winchester.” He lowered the gun. “What the fuck are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean waved the gun at Lilith. “Well, trying not to get killed for most of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heavy foreplay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled, standing up. “Not even close.” Dean looked at Lilith, wondering what to do about her before an idea came to him. “Rufus, would you like to get a few coins and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue?” Dean waved at Lilith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rufus checked her, thankfully understanding what Dean meant. He shrugged. “Just some babysitting? Sounds easy enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rufus put his gun in the waistband of his pants and walked to Lilith to grab her legs as Dean put his hands under her armpits. They walked to Rufus’s room, Dean putting her in one of the chairs as Rufus grabbed a rope from his suitcase. Dean raised a brow at him. “You just keep one of those on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rufus smiled, shrugging. “It’s been handy sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tied Lilith up, Dean making sure it was extra tight, before they went to Dean’s room. Dean gave Rufus a few coins, one extra for the bottle of Johnnie. “I’m sure Rowena will be more than happy to get one for you, Rufus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rufus clapped his shoulder rather painfully. “You better hope she does or I’ll be tying </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> up next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as they walked to the door again. “I’ll be more than happy to pay for it, Rufus. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a problem, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rufus walked back to his room as Dean closed the door of his. He sighed as he rested against it, the pain finally catching up to him. Groaning, Dean raised his shirt to look at the stitches on the wound;</span>
  <em>
    <span> Yep, definitely open.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He pulled the shirt over his head and pushed the boxers down, throwing it along with his clothes on the floor. Grabbing a new suit, Dean made his way to the bathroom, checking himself in the mirror; more bruises were starting to appear along his abdomen, a few cuts from the glass in his legs, and bruises on his knuckles, slightly bloodied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked into the shower stall, turning the hot water on and stepping under it with a relieved sigh. The water relaxed his muscles, helping with the ache, washing the blood and, hopefully, all the glass. Dean did his best to clean all the cuts and wash away all of the blood before shutting off the water, wrapping himself in a towel, which was already starting to be stained in red when it touched the cut in his abdomen. Dean sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously that it’s gonna be bleeding for-fucking-ever now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the cabinet door, Dean rummaged through it to find a first aid kit. He dried himself before wrapping the towel tightly around his waist and starting to work on cleaning the blood the best he could. Dean pressed a bandage on it after, tight enough to be sure it wouldn’t be spilling blood all over; he only had one suit and he didn’t want it covered in blood before he even left the hotel. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It ain’t  stitches but it’s gonna have to hold.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After checking himself to make sure he didn’t need any other bandages, Dean put the kit back in its place, moving to get dressed.  He was careful with the bandage as he put on the shirt, tucking it inside his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He adjusted the tie around his neck—hating it as always—and walked back to the room to put his bulletproof vest on again, tightening it around him, hoping it would keep the bandage in place. He grabbed a few more guns, putting them inside his waistband. He walked to the phone, dialing the reception number. As he waited, Dean sat on the bed to put his shoes on, hissing when he moved his hurt leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Winchester, how may I help you, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a gun. A Coharia Arms CA-415 if you have it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowena hummed and Dean could hear the sound of a keyboard in the background. “I can ask for someone to take it to you five minutes or you can pick it up at the counter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll grab it at the counter, Rowena, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure as always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean hung up the phone and stood up, making his way to the table. He grabbed his suit jacket, groaning when he felt the wound being pulled. Running his hand down his front, Dean made sure he wasn’t forgetting anything before grabbing the key card and the bottle of pills and walking out of the room. He stopped long enough to listen for any sound in Rufus’s room but there was only the TV, calming Dean down; he was more than sure that Rufus could handle himself more than well enough against Lilith, but he couldn’t help but be worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waiting for the elevator to come up and then go all the way back down was annoying, as usual, but at least Dean had something to do; he had to check where the church Lilith talked about was. There wasn’t a lot on it on the internet—and Dean was more than sure that Michael had something to do with that—but at least he found the address and it was enough for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lilith had said that Michael was keeping his private stash there so there would be a lot of guards, and—as usual—some civilians to keep the facade, and most of Michael’s men would be there. If Dean managed to get to it and destroy at least a part of it, it would be more than easy to find Michael and Bartholomew; after all, Michael’s influence depended on the money and, without it, Michael would be more than willing to give up his son not to lose everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I always thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>my</span>
  <em>
    <span> family was fucked up</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought as he shook his head. At least his family didn’t give each other up; not exactly for loyalty and more due to the fact that nothing would be as bad as what they would suffer back home if they did, but still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shuddered as he walked out of the elevator, making his way to the counter. Rowena was reading something on the computer in front of her, but she raised her head when she heard Dean’s steps echo throughout the lobby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From Rowena’s expression, Dean was sure that Rowena knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what the sudden guest was there for, but she didn’t say anything, only grabbed a bag beside her feet and handed it to Dean. “I suppose I can put this on your tab, Mr. Winchester?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded as he opened the bag, checking the gun inside. “Sounds great, thanks, Rowena.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean closed the bag and tipped his head at Rowena in thanks before walking away, seeing his car being parked in front of the hotel. He nodded at the valet that got out of the driver’s seat and stepped inside the car, placing the bag on the passenger seat. He closed the door and stepped on the gas pedal, driving towards Little Russia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, it wasn’t too far away and Dean got to the church rather quickly. From one look, Dean knew it was a front; it was too pretty, big, and had more security than a church should have. There weren’t a lot of guards outside but Dean could see the guns on them, and he could see some more through the open door. He parked outside, staring at the church for a few seconds, looking for weak spots and through where he could escape if he needed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pulled the pill bottle from his pocket, swallowing five of them at once. He shuddered at the horrible taste they left on his tongue and reached to get the whiskey bottle he always left under the passenger seat. His fingers reached only air and, with a pain in his heart, Dean remembered he wasn’t in Baby. He felt his pulse quicken with anger and he grabbed the bag before pushing the door open with unnecessary force. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>These fuckers are in for a treat today. I can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>wait </span>
  <em>
    <span>to kill all of them for taking Baby and my family away from me. If they thought I was bad before, they have no idea how much worse I am now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He already had the zipper of the bag open so it would be easier. Dean walked way calmer than he felt to the door of the church, eyes scanning every inch of the room. Dean could see one or two civilians, three or four that </span>
  <em>
    <span>seemed</span>
  </em>
  <span> like civilians but were very much Michael’s peons, and the priest at the end of the room. Dean was never a religious guy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he worked for Michael who used it as an excuse more than anything, and he couldn’t wait to kick some ass in Michael’s fake-ass church.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The priest turned when he heard Dean’s footsteps, along with some of the guards, and gave Dean what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Hello, my son, how may I hel—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pulled the gun out of the bag in a fraction of a second, shooting the priest before he could finish talking. The gunshot echoed loudly throughout the walls. Dean shot the two men that got up from the benches before they could reach for their own guns and turned to shoot at the others—three on the benches, one on the second floor of the church, and the four that came in from the outside. The civilians got up, screaming as they ran, just an old lady staying at her seat, staring boredly at them. Dean wasn’t sure if he should be scared of or respect her for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Motherfucker!” The priest yelled with a heavy Russian accent behind Dean, making Dean turn with his gun pointed at the old man’s head. “Ты хоть представляешь, с кем связался?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked to him with a smug smile. “Да, я знаю, ублюдок.” Dean grabbed the lapel of his clothes and pulled him up, pushing him forward. “Let’s take a walk to the vault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked to the back of the church, the old man grunting all the way, little drops of blood leaving stains on the floor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost like Hansel and Grettel leaving bread crumbs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought, amused. They stepped down some stairs and Dean could see a man around the corner at the end of it. He pushed the old man down before shooting at the guard. He also shot at another man at the end of the room, near the gate. Dean used the old man as a shield when they finished the steps, pushing him to keep walking forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the gun near the first man away from him and pushed the old man against the gate. “Open it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ты думаешь, что сможешь напугать меня настолько, чтобы открыть ворота?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean raised his gun and pressed the barrel against the man’s back harshly. “Да, это так. Черт возьми открой его,” he answered through his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael will kill me if I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stared at him with a bored expression, listening to the sound of the man behind him reaching for his gun. Dean turned and knocked the end of his gun on the man’s face, blood throwing out of his mouth, and shot at the second man, turning to face the old man. “I think you should be more worried about me, right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old man seemed to fight with himself for a few seconds before sighing and reaching for the buzzer on the gate, punching the digits. It buzzed and opened. Dean pushed it open as he looked at the two women inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ladies, out.” He waved them out. They walked out of the room with their hands raised, eyes scared and tearful. “Хорошего дня.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked around the room with a raised brow, wondering what to do. He smiled when an idea came to his mind. He put the strap of the gun on his shoulder, letting it rest against his hip, and started taking everything inside the drawers and throwing them on the floor; money, CDs, files, jewelry. Any and everything he could find, didn’t matter if it seemed important or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael’s fortune grew ever since I left. He didn’t have this much money back then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankly,” the old man said as Dean walked out of the gate, “what do you think you’re going to do with all of that? Michael will find you with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gave him a smug smile as he grabbed his lighter and a bottle of whiskey from one of the tables. He took a large sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and poured the rest on top of the pile, throwing it once it was empty, the glass breaking loudly. He lit his lighter and turned to look at the old man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t find me with it ‘cause I won’t have any of it.” Dean threw the lighter, the fire spreading faster than he thought it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away without another word, listening as the fire swallowed everything and the old man groaned as he tried to drag himself away. Dean made his way out of the church quickly, knowing it wouldn’t be long before more of Michael’s men showed up; the last thing he needed was to be caught without any preparation. He could already hear cars skidding close to the church. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean entered the building on the other side of the street, climbing up the stairs until he got to the roof. He sat close to the edge, hoping no one in the street could see him. Four cars parked at the church, five men getting out of each car, all loaded with guns and dressed in well-fitted suits. Dean recognized Michael as soon as he stepped out of the car. He hadn’t changed a thing; tall, with his black hair short and perfectly taken care of, dressed in a suit that fit him all too well, tightened at the right places, and Dean could practically see his green eyes from there, sparkling with anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to give it to him, he still looks as good as he did six years ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s steps echoed as he walked to the front of the church, and they were hard as Dean heard him screaming in Russian at his employees. Two other men dragged the priest from the inside of the church as the man seemed to plead for his life. Dean couldn’t hear what they were saying but Michael pulled a gun and shot him in less than a minute. The gunshot echoed throughout the street as the two men grabbed the man’s body and dragged him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked away, making his way down quickly. If there was a chance he could find out where Bartholomew was, it was now; he would have to get Michael and force him to speak up. He took the gun, sliding it from his shoulder and adjusting it in his hands. Going for the opening, Dean ran across the street, hiding behind one of the cars as he waited for Michael and his men to appear in his vision. He tried to see if he knew anyone and no one but Raphael was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh, so I guess Raphael finally got a promotion. He’s protecting the boss now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t wait before starting to shoot the men, going for the ones closest to Michael first and then moving to the others. Dean shot as he walked closer, taking cover behind another car. The ones that weren’t dead were also hiding and Dean couldn’t see Michael or Raphael, not sure which car they hid behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shots were fired in his direction and Dean raised just enough to be able to shoot at the men he could see; those who were stupid enough not to take cover. He circled the car as the windows broke with the shots and Dean stopped at the end of it, shooting. He walked forward again as he let the gun fall to his hips and grabbed one of the guns on his waistband. He made his way to another car as he kept shooting, killing three more men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them got into one of the cars, starting it and driving off. Dean couldn’t see it, only hear, as he hid behind another car, putting the gun back in his waistband. He changed the clip of his CA-415, listening to footsteps on the other side of the car. He looked through the window to see a man walking to his side of the car, and Dean got ready; he pushed the man against the car and pressed him as he shot another one that was close before shooting the one he was holding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt blood on his face and he shook it off as he turned and shot the ones farther away. He walked backwards to take cover behind another car when he was thrown to the side, his side exploding in pain when he hit the ground. He groaned in pain, barely breathing through it, and he could feel the blood starting to pour through the bandage as he looked to see another car behind the one he had taken cover, a man stepping out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Son of a bitch, that’s fucking low.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s vision obscured as he watched Michael walk closer to him with his hands behind his back and a disappointed expression on his face as he shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light behind his eyelids was enough to wake Dean up with a groan. He kept his eyes closed as he took the general of his situation; he was sitting, hands tied behind his back against a cold surface, probably a chair, the floor was covered in plastic from the noise it made when Dean moved his feet, and there were at least five people in the room with him from the sounds of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Great, just fucking great. Getting out of here is gonna be a bitch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his head slowly as he blinked to adjust his vision, seeing Michael walking closer to him, a small but pleased smile on his lips. “I have to hand it to you, Dean; you’re still as good as you were six years ago. A little rusty, of course, but still good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean watched as Raphael grabbed a chair and placed it in front of him, Michael sitting as he stared at Dean. He gave a quick look around him to know the space he was in; it seemed like an abandoned building and there was, indeed, plastic on the floor, but there were four people and not five as he had thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wish that would make things easier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Dean, you’ve always had some… fearlessness in you. And some recklessness as well, but you’re still the same Dean Winchester as you were six years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed angrily. “No, I’m not. I’ve changed in ways you could never even understand, Michael,” he spat through his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shook his head. “I’ve said this to you before, Dean: people </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> change. They’re always the same, even when the times change. And sometimes they’re not even who you think they are, you should know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean wished he could say he didn’t fall for it but he actually frowned. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Michael?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael sighed as he slid closer to Dean, a fire burning in his eyes. “Do you have any idea </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you burned in that vault, Winchester? I’m not even talking about the money. I can make it back in no time, but there were things in there that were priceless.” Michael stood up, pushing the chair behind him, screaming, “Priceless! All of my leverage over this city was there and you burned it to the ground.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gave him a smug smile as he sat straighter. “Yeah, that was a fuckin’ joy to do, Michael. Wish I could do it all over again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael laughed humorlessly. “Oh yeah, you do, huh?” Out of nowhere, Michael punched Dean’s jaw, his body being pushed to the side and making him bite his tongue and taste blood. He groaned as one of the men behind him forced him straight again. Dean spat the blood onto the floor as Michael cleaned his knuckles with a piece of cloth. “So, you became a civilian, huh? Got a mortgage, a family, a fuckin’ boyfriend. One hell of a boyfriend if I know him well enough, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s heart started to beat faster and he did his best to keep his expression emotionless. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no way he can know about Cas, it </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiel Novak is the name he’s been using, right?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, he knows his name but I’ m sure that’s it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Huh, funny, never thought he, of all people, would choose an angel’s name given who his family is.” Dean frowned as he stared at Michael’s eyes, filled with a sick pleasure. “Oh, you don’t know? Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean. Poor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean. You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no idea</span>
  </em>
  <span> with whom you’ve been with these past four years, do you?” Michael smiled at him, almost understandingly. He walked to Dean, placing a soft hand under his chin. “Well, as much as I would love to tell you all about little ‘Castiel’, sadly, I have other matters to attend to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, raising his head. “C’mon, Michael, just hand me your son. You know it’ll be easier and you may even live to tell the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael chuckled as he grabbed his coat from the chair. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> won’t live to tell the story, Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael turned and started to walk away. Dean gritted his teeth as he jumped out of the chair. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance, Michael! You’re gonna regret it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men behind Dean grabbed him and pressed him back against the chair, pulling a plastic bag over his head. Dean tried to squirm himself from their hold, watching helplessly as Michael and Raphael walked out of the place. The bag hurt his neck and cut his breathing, leaving Dean dizzy and his vision starting to black out. He tried to push his legs against the floor, move his body, but the men didn’t let him move, holding him in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean was about to pass out when there was a gunshot and one of the men holding him fell to the floor. The other one let him go, reaching for his gun as he looked around the room. Dean didn’t lose time before standing up and running towards the man, making both of them fall to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chair broke and it allowed Dean to pull his legs up and pass his arms to the front. Dean pushed the bag off his face, rolling and pushing himself up. He hit the man’s arm, making him drop his gun. They fought to drop the other until Dean threw himself on the floor, pulling the guy with him and trying to put one of his legs around the man’s neck to suffocate him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man managed to free himself and they both pushed themselves up. The man didn’t lose a second before throwing himself on Dean, keeping him at an arm’s length as he punched Dean’s ribs. Dean groaned as he tried to free his suit from the man’s grasp until the man swept his foot under Dean’s legs. Dean fell to the floor while the man still tried to punch him, getting way too close to Dean’s wound. </span>
</p><p><span>Enjoying the opportunity, Dean kicked the man’s leg and pulled him to the floor, placing his legs on top of the man’s torso and straddling him. Dean passed the cuff holding his hands</span> <span>around the man’s neck as he changed their positions, getting under him as he suffocated the man, his legs holding the man’s arms.</span></p><p><span>The man squirmed in Dean’s hold, trying to free his arms to hit Dean, but Dean just kept on pressing the plastic</span> <span>against his neck tighter, not letting go until the man’s efforts died down. Dean then snapped the man’s neck, pushing him away. Dean looked for a knife on the man’s clothes, letting out an </span><em><span>aha!</span></em><span> when he found it. He cut the plastic holding his hands, snapping them off his wrists. He also grabbed the man’s phone, hoping there would be something useful in it, and looked for a gun around the room. He smiled when he found a Kel-Tec KSG on the floor, checking its clip and grabbing another one, just to be sure.</span></p><p>
  <span>He walked out of the room with the gun in his hands and looked around the street, finding one of Michael’s cars driving away. Dean shook his head with lips thinned, hands tight around the gun as he cocked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck no. You’re not getting away, Michael. Not today.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dean circled the building and ran to the street, stopping in the middle of it with his aim ready, just waiting for Michael’s car to show up. When it did, he shot at the car four times, making sure to hit the driver and one of the tires, and the car swiped to Dean’s right, hitting one that was parked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean kept his aim at the car as he walked closer to it, climbing on its hood. He killed the driver and aimed at Michael, whose eyes widened, staring with his mouth hanging open at the now dead driver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, breathe, Winchester, breathe.” Michael stepped out of the car with his hands raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shot at the ground between Michael’s feet, making him flinch and scream. “Where is he, Michael?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Дерьмо!” Michael sighed as he stared angrily at Dean. “If I tell you where he is, will you let me go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull the contract and we’re even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael looked at the driver inside the car and closed his eyes as he huffed out a breath. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean slid off the hood of the car, aim always on Michael. “Where’s Bartholomew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s in a safe house in Brooklyn. 434 Wallace Place.” Michael sighed, slowly lowering his hands. “They’ll be expecting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously. But it doesn’t matter, they’ll all be dead before night falls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lowered the gun and walked away, heading to where his car was. He groaned when his ankle pulled, sighing in annoyance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This fucking thing is gonna fuck me up sometime.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean fumbled inside his pocket for the car keys, startling when he felt a phone vibrating. He fished it out of his pocket, staring at the screen for a few seconds. It said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unknown Number</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which didn’t seem good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He answered it, placing it against his ear. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean?” He froze when he heard Cas’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How the fuck does he have this number? And how does he know it’s me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened and closed his mouth a few times, still frozen in place. “C-Cas? What… how? What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sighed on the other end. “Dean, I… I have something to tell you and it needs to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please. I know you said you couldn’t but it’s… it’s important and urgent. Can we meet? At the bridge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean closed his eyes when he felt tears welling up on them. “Ye-yeah.” He cleared his throat before replying more firmly, “Yeah, I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll see you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean let the phone fall to the floor, almost letting his knees follow suit, but he stayed up. He could feel his hands shaking and a lump forming in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He tried to calm himself before opening his eyes and starting to walk back to the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever it was that made Cas nervous like that, it wasn’t good and Dean had a feeling the conversation wouldn’t go well. Michael’s words about Cas replayed in his mind but Dean pushed them away; there was no way he could know anything about Cas, he was probably just messing with Dean. At least, Dean hoped it was just that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Translations:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>1. “Ты хоть представляешь, с кем связался?” —&gt; “Do you have any idea who you're messing with?”<br/>2. “Да, я знаю, ублюдок.” —&gt; "Yeah, I know, motherfucker.”<br/>3. “Ты думаешь, что сможешь напугать меня настолько, чтобы открыть ворота?” —&gt; “You think you can scare me enough to open the gate?”<br/>4. “Да, это так. Черт возьми открой его,” —&gt; "Yeah, I do. Fucking open it,”<br/>5. “Желаю вам хорошо провести день.” —&gt; “Have a good day.”<br/>6. “Дерьмо!” —&gt; “Shit!”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Whoops. Looks Like I Accidentally Shot You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Dean parked the car and saw Cas near the edge of the bridge, he instantly knew there was something wrong. They hardly ever met in that place, even though it was where they first met, because that was the place where they would go when they fought or were about to fight, and it would always bring bad memories to both of them. And if Cas wanted to meet here instead of anywhere else, begging Dean to go and see him, then… </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. Nothing could be bad enough to overthrow what Dean did; leaving Cas without a passable explanation, then disappearing for Dean doesn’t know how long. Dean didn’t think anything could beat that. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> that nothing could beat that; how could </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas</span>
  </em>
  <span> do something worse than what Dean did? Cas was too good to do something bad; the guy felt guilty if he found a penny on the floor and didn’t find its owner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, readying himself for the lecture he was about to hear. Not that Cas wouldn’t be right if he lectured Dean, but that didn’t make it any easier. Dean didn’t even know why the fuck he agreed to meet Cas; it would only make things worse, but here was Dean, because he could never say no to Cas, even if it was to save his own freaking life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas didn’t even turn when he heard Dean’s footsteps echo through the concrete, and that concerned Dean, especially because he could see how tense Cas’s shoulders were. And that wasn’t right; Cas wouldn’t have that kind of tension if he was about to lecture Dean. Cas only got that type of tension whenever he did something he knew Dean wasn’t going to like or that it would make Dean pissed. That made things even worse and Dean was starting to think they were about to get into a bigger fight than he thought; whatever it was, he sensed there was something he didn’t know and that was going to be revealed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stopped by Cas’s side, staring at the side of his face as Cas continued to stare at the sky. Dean didn’t want to break the silence; he actually didn’t know what he could say and the silence was easier to handle than the disappointment he knew he would see and hear from Cas any minute now. He didn’t want to deal with it just now, because he could just observe Cas and he was fine with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas didn’t move or even acknowledge Dean’s presence; he stayed in his place, arms crossed on his chest, shoulders tensed, and eyes staring at the darkening sky intensely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Dean nervous because he rarely saw Cas like that. Cas wasn’t an easy person to read; he always managed to hide his emotions all too well and it took Dean quite some time to be able to notice the small ways Cas showed his true emotions. Seeing him this close, Dean noticed how Cas’s emotions were so visible, and it only meant something was terribly wrong and Dean was afraid of what it could be. He thought about Jo, that something could’ve happened to her, and Dean’s heart tightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it couldn’t be it. Cas would’ve never let anything happen to her and he wouldn’t let Dean get anxious about it; he would just tell Dean the truth as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence between them stretched for a while longer and Dean, surprisingly, was starting to get impatient. If Cas had something to tell and, quite possibly, say he didn’t want Dean anymore, Dean wanted to know it as soon as possible. The waiting was the worst part and Dean was never a really patient person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not being able to handle it anymore, Dean gave one step closer to Cas, stopping in front of him with open arms. Cas seemed to snap out of his own mind and moved his eyes to meet Dean’s. He closed the distance between them, Cas’s arms circling Dean and Dean’s arms around Cas, one hand on the back of his neck. Dean held Cas tightly, face buried against the crook of his neck, and he inhaled deeply. He hadn’t even realized how much he had missed Cas until then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t want to ever let Cas go and he let himself have a few minutes of peace; a few minutes to pretend everything was still normal and that everything was going to be okay. Cas also didn’t seem to want to let Dean go and Dean could hear how shallow his breathing sounded, as if he was crying. Dean tightened his hold on Cas, wanting to make him stop crying and take away whatever pain he was in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed that way for a while, neither wanting to let go, but Dean knew they couldn’t avoid whatever it was that Cas wanted to talk about forever—though Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to; they would have to talk about it at one point and it would be harder if it was later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly let go of Cas, pushing him until they could look at each other. Dean wiped away the tears that were on Cas’s cheeks with his thumbs, leaning to give him a kiss. He felt Cas melt against him, his hands closing on the collar of his shirt like a drowning man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their kiss was chaste and sweet, and damn, did Dean miss Cas’s lips. They broke apart, resting their foreheads together, breathing the same air as they stared into each other’s eyes. Dean let his hand fall from Cas’s cheek and pulled back, breathing in the cold air and clearing his head. Cas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I'll miss your beard. And the long hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean actually chuckled lowly, rubbing a hand on his cheeks. “Yeah, me too, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled sadly at him before he turned and walked away, going to the guard-rail and resting his arms on it. Dean stayed back, burying his hands in his pockets and waiting for Cas to start talking—or screaming, which seemed more plausible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Cas turned to him, he had his head low and was staring at his feet as he kicked a pebble. “Dean, I… have something to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned, cocking his head to try and catch Cas’s eyes, but failing. “What is it, Cas? Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas shook his head and took a deep breath. “I, huh, I wasn’t honest to you before. I, huh… Fuck, I don’t know how to tell you this, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean tried to walk closer to him, place a soothing hand on Cas’s shoulder, but Cas stepped back, shaking his head more insistently and Dean let his hand fall to his side. “It’s okay, Cas, you can tell me anything. I’ll always be here for you,” Dean said, insisting on walking to Cas, taking Cas’s hands in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not okay, Dean.” Cas pulled his hands from Dean’s and walked away. “My real name is not Castiel Novak, it’s…” Cas sighed,  looking down. “It’s James Turgenev. My father’s name is Chuck Turgenev, Michael is my brother, along with almost everyone else. Most of them are my cousins or something like that, but they’re all my family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s whole world shattered at that and he had to take a few steps back to process the information, taken aback by it. Cas was a Turgenev? </span>
  <em>
    <span>How?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean’s breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t even look at Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why I thought his tattoos were familiar. I’ve seen them before, on Michael. How didn’t I think about it before? How didn’t I realize it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped back, turning away from Cas, not sure what to do. Four years of his life were a complete and utter lie; </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He never told Cas the truth about who he was and he was wrong for that, but Cas? How could’ve Cas hidden something like that from him? Dean couldn’t even believe he did something like that, because it was so not… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean?” Cas’s voice startled him. “Say something, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean only shook his head, closing his eyes and pressing his hands against them. He could hear Cas say something behind him, but Dean’s brain didn’t process whatever it was. The only thing he could think of was </span>
  <em>
    <span>lie, lie, lie</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Dean didn’t know what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to pace around the empty space between the cars and the bridge, hands running through his hair constantly, pulling a few strands without noticing. The cold breeze that came from the lake in front of him wasn’t enough to cool his anger down and Dean only got more and more angry as he paced, not being able to even look at Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, let me get this straight: what you’re telling me is that you knew who I was all along, you’re actually part of Michael’s family, and you freakin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me this whole time?” Cas opened his mouth but Dean cut him off, “Four freakin’ years, Cas. For four years you lied to me, let me feel bad about never telling you the truth, always asking about my scars and tattoos when you already knew what they meant.” Dean scoffed, staring at Cas with hatred burning in his eyes. “You’re a fucking jerk, you know that? So what, was it all a fucking game to you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, let’s play with Dean Winchester’s feelings, because why the fuck not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, am I right? What, your big bro asked you to toy with me? Make me fall for a Turgenev </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What was the fucking point of all of this, Cas? Michael didn’t like when I left, I fucking know it, there’s a reason why he gave me that fucking task. He wanted me back, so he asked you to get involved with me and then drag me back to the life? Were you supposed to fucking blackmail me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, Dean!” Cas screamed, voice desperate and broken. He walked in front of Dean and stopped him from pacing. Cas took Dean’s hands, holding them tightly between his. “I was never doing what Michael wanted me to do. If anything, I was going </span>
  <em>
    <span>against</span>
  </em>
  <span> his will. Every fucking day of my life I’ve gone against him. You think I wanted to be in that family? I left as soon as I could. And I didn’t know what to do, Dean. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was afraid you were going to leave if you knew who my family was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lowered his voice, angry eyes as he stared into Cas’s. “Do you still work for them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas frowned, taken aback. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still work for them?” Dean repeated slowly, taking his hands from Cas’s and crossing his arms on his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why the fuck would I leave if I knew who your family was? I also left my ‘family’ behind and I’ve never gotten in touch with them after that. I’m not a fucking hypocrite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean, I-I didn’t know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you lied to me!” Dean screamed, laughing humourlessly and starting to pace again, groaning as he closed his hands into fists.  “You could’ve told me the truth. You’ve been lying to me for four fucking years! And I can’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You also lied to me. You’re also guilty in this.” Cas’s expression changed to an angry one, also crossing his arms on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you think that I don’t know that? I tortured myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>every fucking day</span>
  </em>
  <span> for lying to you. The one thing I truly wanted was to be honest with you, to open myself to you. I always told you everything about me but I couldn’t tell you about this, ‘cause what should’ve I done? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, angel,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Cas’s expression turned to hurt for a second and Dean was filled with a sick pleasure, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>So, you know the scars and tattoos you’re always asking about? Yeah, the tattoos are from my fucked up family back in Russia, where they trained me to be a fucking assassin, and the scars are from bullet wounds or stab wounds, nothing much. What’s for dinner?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s not that easy, Cas, because I could never think you would accept something like that. But you? You could’ve told me, because you would understand me and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>I would’ve understood you. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you should’ve told me the truth. Don’t try to throw it all on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean started to turn to walk away but Cas’s voice stopped him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Would</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have understood me, Dean? Are you sure about that? You hate my family and I know it. You hated it when you worked for Michael. If I had told you the truth, you would’ve left me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean turned to him, shaking his head as a humorless chuckle left his mouth. “Four years together and you don’t know me at all. I wouldn’t’ve done that to you. I would’ve tried to understand. I was going to be pissed at first, I know that, but I love you, Cas. More than I’ve ever loved someone my entire life. More than I thought I was capable of. I would do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you, even if it was to try and understand. But now? Fucking forget it. You broke my trust in you, Cas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>saved</span>
  </em>
  <span> your life, Dean! All those times, the close shots, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Cas tried to plea, holding Dean’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Dean raised his brows and pulled his arm back.  “Is that supposed to make me forgive you? Or is it supposed to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel better? ‘Cause, to be fucking honest, it doesn’t change shit to me. Yeah, you saved me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>good for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t fucking care. It doesn’t make a difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as tears welled up in Cas’s eyes and Dean didn’t feel a shade of remorse. He licked his lips angrily, jaw tightening. “Why tell me now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas frowned at him, seeming defeated as he lowered his eyes. “Sam already knew about me. He has for a few months, I guess. When… when he stopped by my house to give Jo to me, he said I should tell you the truth. Even if I didn’t, Michael would and, if you got out of it alive and Michael hadn’t told you, Sam said he would.” Cas sniffled, circling his arms around him when he shivered. “Meg also told me I should do it before something happened. That’s… that’s why I was following you. To protect you and hopefully find a way to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean only nodded. “Good to know they cared more about me than you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to leave again but Cas held his arm, eyes still sparkling with unshed tears. Dean looked at him with cold anger. “Let me go, Castiel. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas shook his head, the tears finally starting to fall through his eyes. “Dean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m so sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he begged, his hold on Dean’s arm almost painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> more with you. We’re fucking done. Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> call or try to find me again. My job’s almost done and when I’m finished, I’m leaving for-fucking-ever. The only thing that I ask from you is to take care of Jo. She doesn’t deserve to suffer from something that ain’t her fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pulled his arm from Cas’s iron grip and Cas fell to the ground with more tears running down his cheeks. Dean walked to the car without another look towards Cas, getting in the car and driving away, wiping the tears that insisted on falling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, when he looked through the rearview mirror, seeing Cas knelt on the ground, trembling and shivering, arms around himself, Dean almost decided to go back and forgive him; but he couldn’t, not after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was one thing Dean hardly ever forgot was a betrayal and one that came from Cas? Dean didn’t think he could ever get over that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and blinked away more tears as he turned his gaze to the road in front of him. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do that. Soon, he wasn’t even going to be here anymore and he was trained on not showing or feeling his own emotions. It was nothing new to him and Dean knew he would survive, even if he was never going to love someone that way again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean barely saw the drive to 434 Wallace Place; his head was so full that he couldn’t pay attention to anything else. After everything Cas told him, Dean just couldn’t believe it; Michael was actually talking about something that was true and probably knew all the time how his little brother was tricking Dean during those four years.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Michael must’ve had a great fucking laugh out of that.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned when he parked the car on the other side of the house, screaming and hitting the wheel in anger. Four years of blaming himself for lying to the most amazing person he had met in his life, always thinking how he wasn’t good enough for Cas, that Cas deserved someone better than him, and that he would never be good enough for Cas.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know what, fuck this. I have a job to finish and, after this, I won’t be here for long anyway, so screw Cas. Lying or not lying, I wouldn’t stay so it doesn’t make a fucking difference.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes and resting against the seat for a few seconds. He rubbed his hand on his face, wiping the tears in his eyes, and, with one last deep breath, pushed the door open. He undid his tie as he walked to one of the buildings where Michael’s men were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His footsteps were silent as he climbed the stairs, moving to one of the guards. Wrapping each end of the tie on his hands, Dean put it around the guard’s neck and pulled him towards him, tying the tie around his neck. The man didn’t get a chance to scream or warn the others, hands grasping uselessly at Dean’s hands. Dean kept the hold on the tie until the man collapsed limply on him, laying him carefully on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean grabbed his earpiece and gun and walked to where the man’s position was. With the sniper rifle—an amazing DTA Stealth Recon Scout, </span>
  <em>
    <span>these guys have good taste at least</span>
  </em>
  <span>—Dean was able to check all the guards in the place and inside the room with Bartholomew; three with him and two outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guess I killed most of Michael’s men and he didn’t have anyone else to protect his son. Makes my job so much easier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean aimed at one of the men with Bartholomew; the one playing video game. Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it easy and just kill Bartholomew, but he liked a challenge; and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to play with Bartholomew, terrorize him first before finally killing him. He saw Bartholomew yell something at the guy with the headphones, who didn’t even seem to listen to him. Dean chuckled as he shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Позиция 2,” came a voice in his ear piece. “Регистрация.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Проверять,” Dean answered before pulling the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bullet got to the man’s temple, throwing him to the side with the impact. The expression on Bartholomew’s face was priceless; wide eyes, mouth hanging open. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what Dean wanted; the realization in Bartholomew’s face as he realized he was about to die and the fear that took its place. He moved his aim to one of the guards outside, pulling the trigger once more, and moved back to the apartment. He shot one more inside as the other dragged Bartholomew away from the windows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, not gonna happen, man.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean shot at the last one, and, at last, fired at the last guard on the outside. Dean ran down the stairs as fast as he could, gun still in hand and ready to fire if he saw Bartholomew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean could hear Bartholomew running and panting not far away from him. He followed the sound and saw as Bartholomew stopped between two containers, looking around uselessly. Dean let the rifle fall to hang on its stripe and grabbed his pistol, aiming at Bartholomew’s abdomen and shooting, just so it would hurt and bleed. Bartholomew grunted and fell to his knees, blood starting to drip from his mouth and hand covering the wound. He fell against one of the containers, staring at Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Это была просто гребаная машина!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean aimed at his chest. “It wasn’t just a car, fucker. Wish I could make this last but, unfortunately, I have more to do. Lucky you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bartholomew opened his mouth but Dean pulled the trigger before he could speak. Bartholomew fell limply against the container, eyes staring lifelessly at Dean. Dean wished he could say it felt rewarding and that it made him feel good to finally have his revenge, but it didn’t; it only made him feel hollow and empty. Nothing but a shell of who he was; no home to go back to, no Cas, no Jo, no Mary. Back to find another place to move again, alone and unhappy as he used to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed as he lowered the gun, staring at Bartholomew’s body. He never thought he would lose as much as he had after the kid got into his house; almost made Dean wish he hadn’t gone after Bartholomew and had stayed home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shook his head and forced himself to turn and walk away; Michael’s men would find him if he stayed there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His steps were practically dragged as he got into his car, which looked horrible; it had a lot of bullet holes, blood splattered all over it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope Bobby wasn’t waiting to get it back or he’s gonna kill me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After entering the car, Dean rested against the seat with his eyes closed, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve killed Bartholomew and now I have nothing to look forward to. Damn it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lost count of how long he stayed at that position, mind full with thoughts that didn’t make much sense; there was Cas, Sam, Eileen, Mary, Jo, memories with them, the good times they had together, and then there were images of them dead if Dean decided to go back to his life, their bodies scattered around the house, their eyes staring lifelessly at him, their voices telling him everything was his fault. Nothing that helped Dean’s decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s gonna have to be the one to help me. He was always good with the touchy-touchy stuff, not me. He must know what to do about Cas; especially ‘cause he already knew about it, that bitch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed and rubbed his hands on his face before opening his eyes. He turned the engine and the radio on, raising the volume as much as he could, trying to deafen his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely paid attention to the songs or the drive, but at least his thoughts seemed to have quietened down and he didn’t get into an accident, so it wasn’t like Dean could ask for much more than that. He parked outside of the Continental, leaving the guns there as he stepped out of the car. He barely gave the valet a “good night” as he handed him the keys, walking the small steps up and going straight to the elevator. He nodded at Rowena on his way, finally feeling the ache in his bones and muscles, all the pain in his bruises and cuts. Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> wait to finally have a good night of sleep; leaving his house would have to wait another day because he needed his memory foam, </span>
  <em>
    <span>urgently</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean yawned as he walked into the elevator, resting against the wall once he pressed the button to his floor. The hotel seemed incredibly empty for its normal standards; Dean wondered if Michael had anything to do with it or if it was just a freaky coincidence. He shrugged when the doors opened; </span>
  <em>
    <span>What does it matter anyway? Even better like this, it means fewer people staring at me.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the door to his room, placing the keycard on the table closer to him. He stared jealously at the bed but he knew he should take a shower and give a look at his bruises; there could be something that could get infected and the last thing Dean wanted was to die because of an infection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He undressed as he walked to the bathroom, not bothering to fold his dirty clothes, just leaving them on the floor. He could deal with them after his shower. Dean only took three pills from the bottle and swallowed them with a long sip of whiskey, relishing on the burn in his throat. He avoided looking at the mirror as he stepped inside the shower, turning the hot water on. Dean closed his eyes as he let the warm water fall on his back, relieving some of his tension and he sighed happily. He wanted to just lay on the floor and sleep under the spray of water but he forced his eyes open, suppressing his yawns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean washed himself, cleaning the wounds the best he could, hissing when the soap got into them, but it helped him stay awake. The bandage on his abdomen seemed to have held the wound closed and it wasn’t bleeding as much as Dean thought it would be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also massaged his shoulders, trying to take away the last traces of tension from them, and stayed under the spray until he felt like jelly. All he wanted as he stepped out of the shower was to sleep for five days consecutively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he dried himself, Dean checked the wounds to take note of which ones he should put a bandage on; most of them were small and he could live without a bandage, so he would only need to put one on his abdomen </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wrapped the towel around his waist and grabbed the first aid kit again. This time, Dean was faster, not wanting to waste too much time. He didn’t even clean it with alcohol, just pressing the bandage on top of it as soon as it was dry enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then moved back to the room, fumbling inside his suitcase for boxers and a shirt. His fingers grasped at a shirt that belonged to Cas; it even smelled like him still. Dean’s eyes watered as he stared down at it. It wouldn’t hurt to use it just one night, right? Just to pretend things were still okay and that Cas was just covering a night shift at the hospital. Dean only wanted to fill the empty spot inside him for a few hours and there was nothing bad about that, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the boxers and the shirt on, inhaling Cas’s scent. It helped Dean calm down and it made him wonder if he was right about being so angry at Cas; he had a point when he said he was afraid of telling Dean. Dean wasn’t sure if he would have reacted in a good way if Cas had told him before. Dean wasn’t a hypocrite but it would be hard not to think Cas was taking advantage of him at first, especially considering who his family was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> couldn’t see Cas taking advantage of anyone but it didn’t make the lie any better in Dean’s eyes; he seemed to be the only one that didn’t know and that pissed him off. Sam could’ve talked to him about it if he already knew; Dean wouldn’t have needed to leave if he knew Cas would understand and things could’ve worked out better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shook his head as he walked back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. It wasn’t worth thinking about that at the moment; he needed sleep and he could think about that when he got back home. He could call Cas and ask him to come over so they could really talk, figure things out. Cas did save Dean’s life and Dean doubted he would’ve done that if he was still working for Michael. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also, Dean did recall Michael talking about one of his brothers that had left him a few years before to live as a civilian and how much Michael was angry at him for it. There couldn’t be a way that Cas was working with Michael and was with Dean just to take advantage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no; it didn’t matter if Cas really wasn’t working for Michael during those years. He still lied to Dean through all the years they’d known each other, when he could’ve told Dean the truth. Cas was right on the part that Dean lied too but that couldn’t take Cas’s blame away. Dean could forgive a lot of things but he didn’t think he could forgive something like that, even if it broke his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of Cas around him wasn’t pleasant anymore and it unnerved Dean; reminded him too much of Cas and it made the pain stronger. Dean barely got any sleep after that, flashes of Cas’s hurt face when Dean left, the tears and sobs that Dean knew were all that he left Cas with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean made his way to the counter with one of his bags on his shoulder, the keycard and a coin in one of his hands. He slid both across the counter towards Rowena. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowena nodded at him, grabbing them and sliding back a car key to Dean. “A parting gift from the manager.” Dean frowned as he stared down at the key, raising a brow at her. “A wee compensation for your </span>
  <em>
    <span>unexpected guest</span>
  </em>
  <span> last night, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as he took the key. “Thanks. Tell Crowley I said hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked to the front of the hotel, seeing a 2011 Dodge Charger LD parked in front of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not bad, Crowley, not bad at all. It’s no Baby but it’s still pretty good.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>One of the employers of the hotel carried his bags to the trunk of the car. Dean gave him a coin and thanked him before going to the driver’s side, opening the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat and ran his hands on the wheel affectionately with a whistle. “You ain’t bad at all, sweetheart. Won’t get to my Baby’s feet but you’re still good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Driving through the New York streets back home was good; the traffic wasn’t bad for the hour and Dean was happy for finally being able to leave the city. Things could start getting back to normal—or as normal as they could get—and he could work on getting his life back together. He would, obviously, still need to look for Baby but he was sure that Bobby would be more than happy to help him with that, and Sam, the nerd, would be there too. If things were still the same as before, Michael probably sent the Impala to Lucifer so he could take care of it—Dean hoped he hadn’t tried to do anything to her. Lucifer would for sure want to give it back after finding out how many men Dean killed, so things were starting to look good to Dean’s side; or, as good as they could get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean startled when his phone started to ring and fished it out of his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number and it didn’t make sense; the only one that had that number was Sam because Dean had </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned as he answered, “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate you giving my son a quick death, Winchester,” Michael’s calm voice came through the speakers and Dean’s blood started to boil. “Unusual for you but I really appreciate it.” Dean stayed silent, not sure what to say; </span>
  <em>
    <span>why the fuck is he calling me and how?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I wouldn’t know how to answer to that, either, Dean, don’t worry. But, you see, something else happened. I pulled the contract as promised but, before, I had hired a few people personally to take you out, no offence, of course. Lilith was one of them, as you already know, but I had also hired Meg Masters, your boyfriend’s friend, you know her, and she betrayed me.” Michael’s voice filled with anger, “And you know how I treat traitors, Winchester, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s heart beat faster and he pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder, turning the wheel to go back to New York. “Michael, let her go. She had nothing to do with all of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dean. Do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> you managed to escape alive all those times? The shots that got </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> close to you but didn’t even grasp at you? My men being killed to help you escape? Our lovely Ms. Masters told </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> boyfriend about the contract and he decided to save you, as the amazing knight in shiny armour that he is. James was always a little too… loving and caring, for my taste, always thinking that killing people was wrong and all of that. And I can’t let that slide, Dean, it’s just not… me, you know? Just like you couldn’t leave my son alone.” There was the sound of punches in the background and a woman groaning in pain. “But she and little Jimmy, or should I say ‘Castiel’? They’ll be long gone before you get here, Winchester. Just thought about giving you the heads up so you’ll find their bodies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, don’t come here!” The sound of Cas’s voice made Dean’s heart tighten and he pressed the gas pedal harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call was cut off and Dean swore as he grabbed the phone and dialled Sam’s number. He maneuvered the car around the traffic, ignoring the honks from the other cars. “C’mon, Sam, fuckin’ pick up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few more rings, Sam finally picked up, “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, I need you, right fuckin’ now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s voice instantly went to business mode, getting serious, “What happened, Dean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael has Cas and Meg. I’m going to Meg’s house right now and I need you to meet me there. We’re gonna have to get them to the hospital as soon as we can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was fumbling in the background of the call and Sam swearing. “I’m leaving the house right now, I’ll be there as soon as I can. But Dean, why the hell did Michael go after the two of them? Doesn’t make sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the time, Sam, I’ll explain later, just drive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean put his phone back in his pocket, turning the wheel abruptly to enter Meg’s street. He never thanked God enough for making Meg live so close to the highway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw a few cars leaving the house and his blood boiled; Dean had to control himself not to go after them because he knew Meg and Cas would need help. He threw the car in park and got out of it as fast as he could, running towards the door of Meg’s house. He grabbed his gun just in case he needed it, kicking the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meg? Cas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard a few groans of pain from the end of the house and he walked towards it. He was careful as he turned the corners, making sure there wasn’t anyone else in the house. His heart practically stopped when he got to the living room and saw Cas lying on the floor, with blood all over his face, hands tied behind him. Dean ran towards him, falling to his knees and hands roaming Cas’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas? Cas! Wake up, c’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pressed his ear against Cas’s chest to hear his heart, sighing in relief when Cas groaned in pain. He raised to see Cas’s eyes starting to open, one of them pretty bruised and starting to swell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, what the fuck happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas coughed and tried to sit. Dean stopped him, placing a hand on his chest so he would stay still, moving to untie Cas’s hands. “Michael and his men took Meg and I by surprise here. I didn’t think they were going to come here.” Meg groaned on the other side of the room, making Dean turn to look at her. “Check her, Lilith shot her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned as he stood up and walked towards Meg. “Lilith? How? What was she doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was the one that told Michael about me and Cas,” Meg said angrily. Dean shrugged his suit jacket off and pressed against Meg’s wound, making her groan. “That bitch, always wanting to ruin my plans. I tried to give Cas an opening but she shot me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean checked Meg for more injuries, sighing in relief when he didn’t find any that were deadly. “I knew I should’ve killed her when I had the chance. Alright, Sam’s on his way and he’ll take you two to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas turned to him with a confused expression. “Where are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> going, Dean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna kill Michael. I was nice enough to let him live, but now? That fucker’s dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meg pressed Dean’s jacket against her wound and shooed him. “What the hell are you waiting for, then? Go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna at least wait for Sam, Meg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, go, we’ll be fine. You need to catch that bastard and kill him slowly, painful—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meg,” Cas cut her off. She snapped her mouth shut with an ugly stare at Cas. Dean helped her sit and rest her back against one of the couches, putting her other hand on the jacket. Cas continued, “Dean, please don’t go. It’s not worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shook his head as he walked back to Cas. “Not worth it? He tried to kill me at least a dozen times these past few days and now he tried to kill you and Meg.” Dean knelt as Cas’s side. “There’s no way I’m gonna let him live to tell the story, Cas, you know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sighed as Dean helped him sit. Dean looked for any deadly injuries as Cas talked, “Dean, I… I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t go after him. What if he kills you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not gonna kill me, Cas, I won’t let him.” Dean grabbed Cas’s face and pressed a kiss on his lips, listening to Meg make an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ew</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that yesterday but I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled softly at him, placing a hand on Dean’s cheek. “It’s okay, Dean, I get it. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, I was just so afraid that I couldn’t even fathom the idea of telling you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rubbed his thumbs on Cas’s cheeks with a small smile. “I get that. When I come back and after you get better, we’ll talk, okay? I promise. No more secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas nodded, raising a hand to place on top of Dean’s. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gave him one more kiss before his phone rang again. He let go of Cas as he answered it, “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you all too well to know what you’re about to do, Dean.” Dean could almost hear the exasperation in Crowley’s voice. “So, I am certainly not the one telling you that a certain helicopter is being fuelled and that it’s gonna leave in less than half an hour. Don’t get killed and don’t do anything stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley hung up before Dean could reply but he knew enough. He put his phone back in his pocket with a sigh. “I’m gonna have to leave you and Meg. Michael’s getting his chopper and he’s gonna leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ finally, Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean turned to face Meg to find her with a small smile on her lips. “I’ll make sure to get an extra shot on him for you, Megs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bet your ass you are. Now go, we’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas grabbed Dean’s face and pulled him closer. “Be careful, please. I need you to come back safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will, babe, I promise.” Dean gave Cas a kiss. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too. Now go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled as he stood up. “Tell Sam what happened and ask him to text me when you get to the hospital so I’ll know where you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meg nodded. “Will do, now leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked back to the front door, ignoring the pain in his chest for leaving Cas and Meg, even though he knew it was for the best; they were both tough and would be okay until Sam got there. Dean had other matters to attend to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran to the car and was driving before he could change his mind, following the direction to Michael’s personal airport. If Dean drove fast enough, he could get there before the chopper’s tank finished being filled.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Challenge accepted.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stepped harder on the gas pedal, thankful when he got closer to the outside of the city and the traffic thinned out. It allowed Dean to push the car to its limits, the airport appearing on the horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank fuck Crowley got a good car for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The gates to the airport were open—</span>
  <em>
    <span>rookie mistake, Michael</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and he drove fast to catch up with the two cars in front of him. He drove side by side to one of them, throwing his car against it to try and knock it off the road. After a few tries, Dean managed to hit the car hard enough for the driver to lose control and fall from the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One down, one to go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pressed the gas pedal to catch up with the other car—the one Michael was in—throwing his own against it. That driver was a lot better than the other, being able to keep the car steady even with the force of Dean’s car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean swore under his breath, tightening his hold on the wheel. Dean saw a few concrete pieces on the road and decided to change his tactic; he let Michael’s car get slightly ahead of him before pressing the gas pedal and hitting its rear. The driver lost control and the car skidded on the side until it hit the concrete as Dean drove until he was ahead of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Switching to reverse, Dean waited until the men started to get out of the car. The men shot at him and Dean only docked not to get hit. The glass broke as Dean drove backwards, one hand going for his gun. He ran over one of the men, aiming his gun at the ceiling of the car and shooting until he heard the man groan and saw him falling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the windshield. Dean maneuvered until he hit another guy with the front of the car, putting his arm out of the window to shoot him at the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was one more guy close to Michael’s car and Dean aimed his car at him. Still in reverse, Dean pressed the gas pedal and held the wheel steady to hit the man. The man kept shooting at him until Dean hit the guy, pressing him against Dean and Michael’s car. He heard Raphael and Michael groan inside the car and he could see their silhouettes moving behind the windows. A bullet hit in Dean’s rearview mirror and he looked behind to see a guy hiding behind a concrete stone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean took the car out of reverse and pressed the pedal again, letting go of the wheel as he changed his gun’s clip. He shot the last man once he managed to get him in his aim, the man falling against the ground with a grunt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone else but Michael and Raphael. He rolled his shoulders as he saw Raphael get out of the car and run to the other side of the airport. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, don’t you even think about it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean drove towards him, stopping the car when Raphael shot at him, dodging the bullet as it hit the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked at him and shot as Raphael smiled at him. It didn’t last long, Raphael falling to his knees with a groan, blood pouring out of a wound on his left shoulder. Dean turned the wheel and pressed the gas pedal as he drove towards Raphael. Raphael’s eyes widened and he screamed before Dean turned the wheel and hit him with the car, his face breaking the passenger’s window and getting stuck with half of his body inside the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light in Raphael’s eyes died as blood poured out of his mouth and he slid through the door. Dean heard as another car got closer to him and he turned in time to see Michael’s car hit his, Michael staring at him with fire in his eyes, knuckles white as he held the wheel tightly. Dean grabbed his gun again, using his two hands to aim at Michael. The shots got close but breaking the window gave Michael time to dodge all of them. Dean looked at the other side, seeing the end of the road and nothing but sea after that. He groaned as he squirmed himself to the back seat and out of the window, trying to be faster than Michael was driving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to jump right before his car was thrown into the sea, the splash echoing in Dean’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy crap, that was </span>
  </em>
  <span>so</span>
  <em>
    <span> fucking close. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed in relief, allowing himself to have three seconds of breathing. He then stood up as fast as he could, aiming his gun at Michael’s car, but Michael wasn’t there anymore. Dean looked around him, trying to find Michael. He found him standing close to the helicopter and Dean groaned. All of that for Michael to escape right under his nose? But Michael didn’t move, just stared as Dean walked closer to him, keeping his aim steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more guns, Winchester. Let’s do this like men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shrugged and threw his gun to the side as Michael walked closer to him. “Let’s do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got in position to fight, only staring at each for a few seconds, and Dean took a deep breath before giving a step closer to Michael and punching him. Michael diverted it, his hand finding Dean’s ribs. Dean groaned before kicking Michael’s legs and punching him in the kidneys, grabbing a handful of Michael’s suit and pulling him to his chest. Dean circled his arms around Michael’s neck, giving him a rear naked choke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael groaned, hands grasping at Dean’s arm uselessly. “What happened, Dean? We used to be civilized. We used to have a relationship. Don’t you remember?” Dean groaned, tightening his hold on Michael’s neck to make him shut up. Instead, Michael kept talking, “Are you going to tell me that my little brother is better than I was? You liked it so much that you had to find someone that looked like me, even shared my name, to take my place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gritted his teeth, feeling his control starting to slip away from him. He opened his mouth to answer, but there was a sudden pain in his abdomen, right on his wound, and he let go of Michael for a second—enough for Michael to free himself and walk away. Dean saw the end of a knife on his abdomen and he pulled it out with a grunt, feeling the blood pouring out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael was coughing with his hands on his throat, the colour slowly starting to come back to his face, and Dean took the opportunity to stab Michael in the heart. They both fell to the ground, Dean clutching his wound and Michael’s hands on the knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean held Michael’s shoulders, stopping him from falling forward. “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Michael, I really do. I wish we could’ve parted ways without this fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael chuckled wetly, leaning against Dean. “You don’t totally regret it, Dean, I know. You’ve always wanted to be able to kill or at least hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shrugged with a small smile. “That’s true, but still. Things could’ve gone differently if you hadn’t gone after Cas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael only nodded as his hands went to the knife. Dean stopped him, holding his hand carefully. They stared at each other and Michael nodded slowly at him, eyes soft and understanding. Dean pulled the knife out of Michael’s chest and the blood started to stream down. They fell to the ground slowly, Dean’s knees hitting the ground quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean kept the pressure on his own wound with one hand, the other still around Michael’s shoulders. Michael let his head rest on Dean’s shoulder, eyes closed and an expression of peace settling on his face. Dean felt Michael shivering and watched as the colour drained from his face, letting him even more pale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Michael’s breath evened out and his chest slowly stopped moving, body limp against Dean. Carefully, Dean lowered Michael’s body, brushing a strand of hair from his face, sure his own would find him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pushed himself up with a groan, dragging himself towards Michael’s car. Thankfully, it was still working and Dean sighed. He grabbed his phone from his pocket with trembling hands, unlocking it to see a few texts from Sam, asking what had happened, where Dean was, and to tell that Meg and Cas were stable and would be moved to the hospital where Cas worked soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That relieved Dean as he only sent a </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be there soon</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Sam and threw the phone on the passenger side. With one last look to Michael, he pressed the gas pedal and drove towards home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean was never thankful for New York not being too far away from his city as he was when he parked outside of Garth’s clinic. He knew he should go to the hospital but he didn’t want Cas nor Sam to freak out about his injuries—Garth would probably freak out too, but that was another story and Dean could deal with it. Dean dragged himself out of the car and limped to the front door, knocking insistently on it until Garth opened it. His eyes widened when he saw Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, Doc?” Dean tried to smile but groaned as the wound pulled, grimacing as he almost lost his balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garth pulled him in, locking the door behind them, and pulled one of Dean’s arms around his shoulders as he guided Dean to one of the rooms. “What are you doing here at this hour, Mr. Winchester? And bleeding as much as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you believe me if I said I was in a car accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garth only scoffed at him. “Of course not, but it seems like I don’t actually wanna know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled wetly. “You probably don’t. I need you to stitch me up, Doc.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garth sighed as he helped Dean sit at a chair. “I’m a veterinarian, Dean, not a human doctor. I can’t just stitch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean coughed and pressed his hand on the wound. “‘Course you can, it’s not that hard. I used to do it all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garth shook his head and walked away, muttering something about crazy people showing up in the middle of the night. Dean adjusted himself on the chair with a groan and waited for Garth to come back. He was sure he practically passed out a couple of times from the blood loss before Garth came back with bandages, thread and needles, and a bunch of other stuff. He placed everything on the table, settling in a chair across from Dean. He handed a bottle of whiskey and two pills to Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t exactly take your pain away but it’ll help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s great, Doc, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garth worked on Dean’s wounds, cutting the older stitches first, cleaning the wound—which hurt like a bitch—and then proceeded to stitch it again. Dean drank almost half of the bottle during it, trying to stay as still as possible and trying to keep himself awake. Garth also took care of Dean’s other injuries, making sure they were all clean and bandaged before taking the bottle from Dean’s hands, ignoring Dean’s ugly stare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ve had enough of this.” He put his things back in their place. “Is there anyone that can pick you up? You’re in </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> condition to drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean yawned, feeling himself getting limp. “My brother can pick me up, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tall fella? Long hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. “That’s the one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll call him. In the meantime, just stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled and tried to give him thumbs up before letting his hands fall on his abdomen. He saw as Garth left the room shaking his head and chuckled to himself. Dean let his head rest against the wall behind him and let his eyes fall closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely won’t hurt anyone, right? Just close my eyes for a few seconds?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Translations:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>1. “Позиция 2,” —&gt; "Position 2,”<br/>2. “Регистрация.” —&gt; “Check in.”<br/>3. “Проверять,” —&gt; “Check,”<br/>4. “Это была просто гребаная машина!” —&gt; “It was just a fucking car!”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Yellow Band-Aid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Dean woke up, it was to see the ceiling of his own room, his memory foam under him, and with Jo by his side. He sat on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I dream everything? What the fuck happened? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo opened her eyes to stare at him, blinking slowly in boredom, not even worrying about Dean’s panic. Dean fixed his gaze on her legs, noticing she didn’t have the bandage around one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This keeps making less sense as I think about it. It can’t be possible that I dreamt of all of that; I’m not </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> creative and I didn’t drink </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> much either.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A noise downstairs grabbed Dean’s attention and he immediately got ready for a fight. Dean jumped off the bed, grabbing the first thing close to him: a lamp. Jo followed him as he walked silently to the stairs, paying attention to any movement around him; just in case he had dreamt of it all and it was everything coming true. He sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should’ve grabbed my gun instead of this freaking lamp.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The sunlight burned Dean’s vision and he had to blink a few times to be able to get used to it. Dean heard another noise coming from the kitchen and he tightened his hold on the lamp. He had managed to kill three people with a pencil once, he had to be able to kill someone with a lamp as well, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a tall figure in the kitchen, its silhouette marked against the fridge’s light as they looked for something. If the person wasn’t so tall and their hair wasn’t so long, Dean would have said it was Cas, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dean raised the lamp, ready to hit it on the back of the person’s head when they turned and flinched away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude! What the hell are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned as he lowered the lamp. “Sammy? What the hell are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam raised the bowl of fruits he had in his hands. “Eating, what else?” He seemed to notice the lamp in Dean’s hands. “Why did you come after me with a lamp?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was the closest thing I could find.” Dean placed it on the counter as he rubbed his face, groaning. “What the hell happened, man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… don’t remember anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I mean… did it all really happen? I woke up and everything seemed so normal, I thought I had dreamt it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam scoffed as he walked to the table. “Yeah, right. You’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> creative.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded as he sat beside Sam. “That’s what I thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, last thing I remember was going to Garth’s and he patched me up. Gave me almost a whole bottle of whiskey as well and said he was goin’ to call you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded, stretching his legs in front of him. “He did and I picked you up, brought you home. Dude, you were conscious the whole drive back here. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>talked</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as he stole a grape from Sam. “I don’t remember anything from that. Garth must’ve given me something pretty strong, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, apparently. Well, you slept for almost twelve hours, so you’re probably good to go, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twelve hours? Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> a record.” Dean bit half of the grape before widening his eyes and turning to Sam. “Where’s Cas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s at the hospital with Meg. Don’t worry, they’re fine.” Sam plopped a grape in his mouth. “Doctors said they’ll live and Alex will go there later to check on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed in relief, letting his head fall onto his arms. “Can’t believe Michael actually went after them, I mean, Cas is his brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged. “Dude, what the hell can </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about it? Have you seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean laughed humorlessly. “You’re not wrong, but still. One thing Michael was always proud of his family was how they were close and how he could trust all of them.” Sam shrugged again, grabbing another grape. Dean turned to him with squinted eyes. “Also, you knew about Cas’s family and never told me. Was that why you told me all of that before I left?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course I knew, man. Just because I left, doesn’t mean I didn’t keep tabs on those people in case something happened that required some knowledge about it. And I’ve met Cas once, before you worked for Michael, though he was still going as Jimmy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even remember, to be honest. Something to do with Eileen, I think, when we were trying to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of the life. It’s been a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed, relaxing against his chair. “A fuck ton of time. You should’ve told me sooner. You let me think I was lying to him all this time when I wasn’t the only one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Dude, I’ve only remembered I had met him after you two were together for almost three years and I wasn’t exactly sure. I only decided to investigate then, so I found out all of Cas’s trouble to create a whole new identity to himself, how far he went to cut all the ties with his family, and confronted him about it. He didn’t want to talk to you about it, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t, but, after a lot of insisting, he told me. He said he wanted to tell you but didn’t know how to bring the subject up, especially after all those years. I told him it would be better if he did as soon as possible, but you can’t exactly blame him. You would’ve freaked out about it and wouldn’t want to see him ever again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean crossed his arms on his chest with a pout. “I most certainly wasn’t going to do that.” Sam arched a brow at him, making Dean sigh. “Fine, maybe I would’ve reacted that way </span>
  <em>
    <span>at first</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I would see his side of the story after, as I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you did. Cas is a good guy and you two deserve to be happy, you know, even if you two don’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Maybe we can get more of that after I find Baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam groaned, throwing his head back. ”Come on, Dean, why you’re still on that? You’ve killed Bartholomew, Michael, and most of his men. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let it go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell no, I’m not leaving Baby in Lucifer’s hands, you know how he is, especially after I killed everyone; he’s gonna want revenge. I’m gonna find her and bring her back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighed annoyedly, picking at his fruits. “There’s no arguing, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean only smiled as he stood up and made his way to the counter. “Did you make any coffee?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam pointed to the pot on one of the ends of the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing his mug, Dean filled it with coffee, sighing happily with the smell of it. He went back to the table, holding the mug with two hands as he sipped it, eyes closed and back resting against the chair. Neither he nor Sam said anything else, Dean only preoccupied with his coffee for now and Sam reading something on his phone—or talking to someone, Dean wasn’t sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He enjoyed the quiet and the calm in the house for a while, sipping his coffee and letting it do its work, until he heard the sound of Jo’s paws hitting the floor and stopping close to him. Dean opened his eyes to see her staring at him with her head tilted, tongue peaking out of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled and scratched behind her ears. “Hey, girl. Barely talked to you, huh? Are you feeling better now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barked softly, bumping her head against his hand, closing her eyes as she rested against him. Dean spoke in a silly voice with her and saw Sam’s lips quirk in a small smile as he placed his empty mug on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yawned before standing up and stretching himself, which was definitely a bad idea; his whole body hurt, the muscles pulling on his back and legs, along with the stitches on his abdomen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean groaned, raising his shirt to check on them; they seemed to hold steady, covering a bigger wound than Dean thought he had. Sam chuckled as he lowered his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael did a good job on you, huh? Garth said he never thought someone could have so many wounds as you. He was truly impressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what can I do? I was born to impress.” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean walked towards the stairs. “Now, I’m gonna take a shower so I can go and see Cas, check on him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam only waved him off, going back to his phone. Jo followed Dean up the stairs, going straight to Dean’s room and jumping on the bed. Dean chuckled as he walked towards the bathroom, watching as Jo laid her head on top of her front paws, staring at him with the most innocent face in the world. With a pain in his heart, Dean thought as he undressed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>How could I even fanthom the idea of leaving her? I would forever regret leaving her behind and the human Jo would’ve killed me if she knew.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shook his head to get rid of the thoughts as he stepped into the shower. He let the hot water soothe his tension away as he closed his eyes, resting his hands against the cold tiles. He breathed in deeply before opening his eyes, watching the white around him calmly. Dean washed himself, cleaning the blood that was still on him—which had just the greatest smell—and took count of how many bruises he had, which were a lot; most of his abdomen was covered in black and purple, he had some on his arms, and his legs were covered in little cuts from all the broken glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I did </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> miss this part of the job at all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he felt like jelly, Dean turned the water off and wrapped himself in a towel. He dripped on his way to the closet, thanking the fact that Cas wasn’t here to see it; he would definitely eat Dean alive if he knew. Smiling softly, Dean chose his normal clothes—anything that wasn’t a suit—and got dressed, leaving the towel on top of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo followed him when he made his way to the stairs again, running a hand over his hair to make it look presentable and get rid of the water droplets. Sam was still at the table, this time with a mug of coffee as he talked with someone on the phone. Dean grabbed his keys before waving at Sam, mouthing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to the hospital</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded and waved, raising his mug and stopping halfway to say something to the person on the other end of the phone. Dean called Jo to him as he made his way to the front door. He decided to grab Sam’s car—not like there was any other option anyway—letting Jo inside first. She settled on the passenger seat happily, barking at him as he turned the engine on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, girl, I know. We’re going to see Cas, okay? And you’re gonna get inside, that’s for damn sure, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She only stared at him with her head tilted and eyes squinted. Dean chuckled as he got on the road, opening the passenger’s window for Jo to put her head through it. He turned the radio on, changing stations until he found a rock one. Dean kept one hand on Jo’s fur, the other on the wheel, sighing as he got closer to the hospital. Maybe things could finally go back to how they were and Dean could live happily again; he would have Baby back in no time once he found her, he had Cas and Jo and his family back, he wouldn’t have to lie to Cas anymore, and people would think twice before going after him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, things were starting to look good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he parked the car at the hospital, Jo was practically jumping on top of him, barking for him to let her get out of the car. He opened the door with a chuckle, Jo jumping down and running to the door of the hospital. Dean shook his head as he locked the car and walked towards her with slow steps, smiling when she barked louder, trying to hurry him. The parking lot was mostly empty, only three more cars beside his. The waiting room was emptier, so Dean walked straight to the counter, smiling at the nurse behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m here to see my boyfriend, Castiel Novak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse smiled at him, typing something on his computer. “Dean Winchester, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Novak will be very happy to know you’re here. He has asked about you.” He handed a card for Dean. “He’s in room 703, on floor seven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Dean started to walk away, but turned when Jo didn’t follow him. “Is she allowed to come up with me?” He pointed at Jo. “It’ll mean a lot to Cas if he can see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse seemed insecure, looking around him before nodding. “Okay, she can go. Just make sure she won’t bother any other patients. I’m sure there’ll be some people that won’t be happy to see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely, she’ll stay with me at all times. C’mon, girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo followed him to the elevator, Dean pressing the button to the seventh floor. She sat by his side, tail wiggling around anxiously. Dean pet her as he watched the numbers change on the panel, feeling as anxious as she did. He tapped his foot on the floor, adjusting and readjusting his hair, trying to make it look good. Dean looked down at his clothes with a frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should’ve put something a little better than sweatpants, right? At least some jeans to look more presentable to Cas. Should’ve brought some flowers too, he would love flowers. Is it too late to go get some? Maybe somewhere close sells them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The door of the elevator opened and Dean gulped down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, no time then.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He walked out of it, Jo on his tail, and looked for Cas’s door, smiling at some nurses on his path. Neither seemed to care about Jo and Dean was grateful; the last thing he wanted was to have to leave Jo in the car when he was sure she wanted to see Cas as much as he wanted to see her. Separating them would not be a good idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stopped in front of the closed door of the room 703, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Jo stared at him anxiously, as if she was telling him to go on, tail wiggling around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one last deep breath, Dean knocked softly on the door and waited for Cas’s voice to reply with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come in</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He opened the door and all the nervousness melted from him when he saw Cas; he had a few bandages on his arm and on his face, one yellow band-aid contrasting against the white on his cheek, hair all messed and ruffled, eyes as bright as the sun, and a smile so sweet and open that Dean couldn’t help but fall in love with him again because he knew that smile was for him and for him only.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo jumped up with Cas on the bed, licking his face happily and barking softly. Cas smiled at her as Dean closed the door behind him and walked to the bed, a smile making its way to his lips. Cas closed his eyes as Jo kept licking him, petting her fur and speaking silly with her. Dean stopped by his side, just watching the two loves of his life. Once Cas finally got Jo to calm down, he turned to Dean with a smile, raising his hand to place it on Dean’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean placed his hand on top of Cas’s, placing a kiss on Cas’s palm. “Hey, angel. How’re you doin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, not as bad as I could’ve been. Guess I got luckier than you and Meg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, you certainly did. How is she, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled as he pulled Dean to sit on the bed. “Fine as always. She’s already complaining about the hospital, the nurses, and everything in between.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as he pressed a kiss on Cas’s temple. “That does sound like Meg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas grabbed Dean’s collar and pulled him closer. “I’m expecting a kiss so much better than that, Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled as he let Cas pull him closer, burying his hands in Cas’s soft hair. “Then come and get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean would combust spontaneously if he could; Cas’s kiss was one of the best things he could ever wish for in his life, it made him shiver between Cas’s arms, feeling a pool of heat form in his abdomen. He moaned into the kiss as he got Cas closer and closer, because it didn’t seem to be enough; the few millimetres between them were too much and Dean needed to close that distance, which didn’t seem to be possible to do—and it wasn’t for not trying hard enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They only let go of each other when Jo barked and snuck her head between them, forcing them to stop. Dean chuckled as he placed a few kisses on Cas’s lips before actually letting him go. Jo laid between them, eyes squinted as she stared up at them. Cas smiled as he scratched behind her ears, eyes avoiding Dean’s. Placing a hand on top of Cas’s, Dean lowered his head to catch Cas’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s just… I don’t know. Are you still angry at me or do you just feel guilty? Is that why you’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned, confused. “What? Of course not, Cas. I love you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. I… kinda understand why you lied.” Dean placed a hand on Cas’s cheek, running his thumb up and down. “I mean, I did the same thing and I’m not exactly an easy person to talk about those things with. I wish you had told me the truth before but I understand why you didn’t. And it’s okay. I meant when I said we would talk and we will, </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get better, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sniffled as he leaned into Dean’s hand and closed his eyes. “Okay, we’ll talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also, what’s with the yellow band-aid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas chuckled softly. “One of the kids here was walking by, and when she saw me, she said I didn’t have enough colour and put it on me. She said it looked nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled as he ran his thumb over it. “It looks amazing and funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas poked him in the ribs with an ugly stare. Dean smiled and placed a kiss on Cas’s forehead, adjusting himself on the bed. He pulled Cas to him, letting him lay on his chest, resting his chin against Cas’s head. “Guess I’m gonna have to pick up some of those and then I’ll take care of you until you’re 110% and won’t need it anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas tightened his hold around Dean’s chest, one hand holding Dean’s. “I would like that very much.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. End of the Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Coming back home was better than Dean thought it would be; the whole house was clean, smelling like citrus soap, there was freshly cooked food, and a big “get well” card from Mary, along with a teddy bear—or teddy dog because it looked just like Jo. Who, as soon as Dean had opened the door, had rushed inside to go to her food bowl as if she hadn’t eaten just an hour ago. Dean saw the small smile on Cas’s lips as he helped him to the kitchen, placing Cas at one of the chairs. He took the card, sitting on the table to read it to Cas, watching Jo eat at the corner of the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a bee on the front page, its fly trail behind it, and big, block letters saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>BEE WELL</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Cas chuckled, adjusting himself on the chair. “I’m pretty sure she chose that one because of me, which means she likes me more than she likes you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed, opening the card. “Like hell she does. I’m sure she just didn’t want you to feel left out.” Cas slapped his thigh playfully and Dean took his hand in his own. He read the card out loud, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas, Dad told me to write a card for you because he said you two were sick, that’s why I couldn’t see you. I miss you and I love you a lot. Get better soon!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Dean smiled, letting Cas pull the card from his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up to go through all of the food that Eileen had left as Cas reread the card. There was lasagna, freshly baked garlic bread, and an apple pie that smelled freaking delicious. Eileen had left a post-it, telling him that she hoped there was enough for the two of them for the night. Dean chuckled, making Cas turn to him with a frown. He handed the post-it to him, moving to grab plates for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled at the post-it, sticking it to Mary’s card and then placing it carefully at the other end of the table—far away so Dean wouldn’t be able to get it dirty, which Dean thought was incredibly unfair to him. But he only stuck his tongue out at Cas and got a chuckle back from him. Dean served a piece of the lasagna for Cas and then one for himself. He placed the garlic bread on another plate, stealing a piece for himself as he walked to the table to put it there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean also put his and Cas’s plates on the table before sitting opposite to Cas. Jo had finished eating her own food and came to them as soon as the smell reached her. She stopped by Dean’s side, staring up at him with her puppy eyes, tongue sticking out of her mouth as her tail wiggled around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, scratching behind her ears. “You know the rules, sweetheart. No people food for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Cas’s lips quirked as he took a bite of the lasagna, just waiting. Jo hit her paw against Dean’s thigh, barking softly. Dean shook his head at her, placing her leg back on the floor carefully. Jo huffed and turned away from him, going to Cas’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed. “And then people say they don’t understand what we say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She understands only what she wants to.” Cas petted her, also shaking his head. “You’re not going to get anything from me, Jo. I’m with your dad on this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo looked hurt by that and Dean was one hundred and twenty percent sure she would’ve flipped both of them off if she could. She walked away from them, going to the living room and ignoring Dean’s calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes and snorted softly. “Ain’t she a peach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas raised a brow at him. “You do know who she reminds me of, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned, hand frozen between the plate and his mouth. “Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, Dean, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed again, squinting his eyes in disbelief. “I don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right. No one can deny you food or you’ll be in a terrible mood for hours. Jo probably learned it from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean let his fork fall back to the plate with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clank</span>
  </em>
  <span> and crossed his arms over his chest. “How dare you, Novak?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas chuckled, shrugging. “I’m only saying the truth. You said she looks like me when she tilts her head and looks confused. And she looks like you when people deny her food.” Cas reached across the table to place a hand on Dean’s arm, lips open in a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s adorable, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean huffed, trying to keep his pout for just a second longer. Cas’s smile only grew as he pulled his hand back and went back to his food. Dean really wanted to keep pretending he was angry but it was hard with Cas looking so cute; Dean ended up smiling as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also went back to his own food and he and Cas talked about nothing at all, trying to stay on light subjects. They hadn’t really talked about anything that happened before the hospital—only about Baby and how they could find her—and nothing about what would happen now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean had insisted that Cas should stay at his place so Dean could take care of him until he was back on his feet; it probably wasn’t going to be that long because Cas hadn’t taken the worst of Michael’s anger—Dean wasn’t sure why or how—and Cas had gone through worse; they both had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sure neither of them wanted to actually talk about it for now and Dean didn’t want to bring the mood down; things were just starting to get better. So, every time things started to get a little bit awkward, Dean would come up with a totally random subject to get them talking again. He could see the gratefulness in Cas’s eyes and Cas would smile, so Dean would smile back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were finished, Cas helped him—ignoring Dean’s complaints—with the dishes, just drying and putting the ones he could reach in their place. Jo joined them soon after, still staring angrily—or Dean though it was angrily—at them but she laid down by their side, watching them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean then helped Cas up the stairs to their room, guiding him to the bathroom and sitting him on the toilet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas opened his mouth to complain but Dean was faster, “We already had this discussion, Cas. I’m gonna help you with everything until you’re golden, which you aren’t, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So stop complaining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms on his chest. “Fine. But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to complain and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled softly. “Yeah, I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled back as Dean handed him his toothbrush. Dean walked to the room to grab his and Cas’s pyjamas, seeing Jo already on the bed, happily snuggled on the pillows. Dean smiled, petting her before going back to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rinsed his mouth by Cas’s side—after Cas insisted he could stand up—and then helped Cas change. Dean pulled Cas’s shirt over his head, being careful with his bruises; there were a lot of them scattered along his torso, a mix of purple, yellow and green, a few ugly scratches—courtesy of Lilith—and just one cut. Cas was, indeed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very lucky</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have just those.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rubbed cream on the bruises, apologizing every time Cas hissed in pain and grabbed Dean’s shoulder tighter. Dean then changed the bandages and helped Cas put the clean shirt on. He also helped him with the pants before going with him to the room. Dean changed his own clothes in the bathroom, turning the light off and walking to the bed. He pulled the covers from the bed and settled with Cas under them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo laid at their feet, resting her head on Cas’s leg and watching them lazily. Cas snuggled on Dean’s side, his head on Dean’s chest as he sighed happily. Dean put an arm around Cas’s shoulders, running his hand up and down his arm, his other hand tangled with Cas’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned the lights off, breathing out slowly and relaxing against the bed. Dean closed his eyes, yawning and he couldn’t be more grateful for finally being at home, in his memory foam, with Cas and Jo again, and finally be able to sleep in peace; no one was going to come after him or Cas, he wouldn’t need to sleep with one eye open, and the gun under the bed would stay untouched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas, on the other hand, moved on top of Dean for quite some time, huffing in annoyance, tossing and turning, until Dean sighed and turned the lights back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the problem, Cas?” Cas avoided his eyes, staring at his hand on Dean’s stomach, lower lip pressed between his teeth. Dean placed his hand under Cas’s chin, raising his head so he could look into his eyes, his thumb running on top of Cas’s lip until he stopped biting it. “Talk to me, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sighed, leaning against Dean’s hand, eyes filled with sadness. “I’m just worried. About us. I don’t want to lose you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled softly. “You’re not going to lose me, Cas. I told you: we’re going to talk but that can wait ‘till you’re better. Then we’ll tell each other everything we’ve been hiding all these years.” Dean ran his thumb over Cas’s jaw. “We’re both guilty and we both have things to make right, which we will. I could never lose you, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled back, placing a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “Okay. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The office was restless; people kept coming in and out, showing Lucifer documents he needed to sign, telling him about the preparations to move all the money and drugs, asking him where and how many boxes were needed to be sent. It was tiresome but Lucifer did everything he had to without complaining; to not, would mean losing even more men and influence than the Turgenevs had already lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once all the boxes were ready, the right amount in each car—which were going to different places—people finally stopped coming into the office. Lucifer let out a relieved sigh and opened the first drawer of the table, pulling out a small box. Opening it, there were five cigars inside, each from a different country, and Lucifer took the Dominican one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer was spoiling himself with that one and he knew it, but, in his view, he deserved it; losing as many men as he had as well as his brother and nephew took a bigger hit on him than he had thought it could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Lucifer lit the cigar, taking the first inhale of it and holding it in, Azazel entered the room, looking around before closing the door. Lucifer closed his eyes and slowly exhaled the smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Все ли готово?“ he asked without opening his eyes, voice heavy with a Russian accent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer opened his eyes and stared coldly at Azazel, cigar tightly pressed between his fingers. “Almost? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azazel gulped down and nodded. “Sir, why are you doing all of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I had an idiot for a nephew! He beat the last man he should’ve, and his dog, and he stole a freaking car… which is currently among our inventory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… we’re moving everything because of a car? Sir, he’s just one man, we can eliminate him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer laughed humorlessly, staring in disbelief at Azazel. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Eliminate</span>
  </em>
  <span> him? One does not simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>eliminate</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean Winchester.” Azazel let out a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And it’s not just him; my brother’s with him: James.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azazel’s back straightened and his eyes hardened. “Can’t we just give the car back, then, sir? Winchester’s problem was with Bartholomew, not us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer stood up, blowing out smoke, and walked to Azazel, stopping by his side, face close to Azazel’s. ”We both know Winchester has always looked for a chance to screw </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us; figuratively and, some of us, literally. Do you really believe he’ll give up now?” Azazel kept his eyes heavily trained on a stop on the wall, not daring to look at Lucifer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The buzzer of the front door rang, signalling someone had entered or left, but neither Lucifer nor Azazel paid it any attention; people were coming in and out all day, so it was no different now. Lucifer walked back to his chair, cigar held tightly between his fingers and he inhaled it, and closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faint sounds of punches and people being thrown onto the ground could be heard outside as Lucifer spoke again, “Dean Winchester is a man of focus,” he continued, as the sound of someone being choked to death came from outside, “Commitment,” wet sounds of punches, “And sheer </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckin’ will</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” a body thrown into the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them made any movement to check what was happening outside the office, not even through the open window. If they did, they wouldn’t have liked what they would see; Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak were both out there, synced as they fought, punching men left and right, using the same knife, tossing it to the other back and forth as needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer inhaled smoke deeply, holding it in until his lungs started to burn. “He once killed three men in a bar with a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With a pencil,” Azazel cut him off. “Yeah, I’ve heard the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With a fuckin’ pencil! Who the fuck can do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More sounds of fight broke outside, closer to them now, a bigger commotion being heard as the men finally started to realize that Castiel and Dean were there and were killing every man standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was thrown against the wall behind Lucifer, the glass on the window shaking slightly, but he didn’t even flinch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I can assure you,” he started, opening his eyes. “That the stories you hear about this man, if nothing else, have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>watered down</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azazel’s lips didn’t even move as his eyes finally went to the window. There were men yelling and running and grunting, Castiel and Dean working in sync as they went after men, choking, punching, kicking, stabbing, throwing to the other side of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two got closer and closer to Lucifer’s office, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind them. Lucifer didn’t show any signs of worry, only the knowledge that there wasn’t anything he could do but wait. The cigar was almost over in his hand and he inhaled for the last time before putting it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azazel walked to stand by Lucifer’s side so they could both look at the door. Lucifer grabbed the three glasses by the vodka bottle and poured three fingers in each, leaving two at the other side of the table as he took a sip of his own,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the sounds of the fight slowly died down, the anxiousness in the office grew thicker, almost thick enough to be cut with a butter knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer nursed his glass of vodka, eyes glued to the door, waiting. Finally, the sound of footsteps came closer to the door before it was thrown open. Dean was standing behind it, Castiel a little farther away as he fought the last man standing. Castiel swept the man off his feet, making him fall onto the ground with a pained grunt, and pressed his foot against the man’s neck, raising his head to stare into Lucifer’s eyes, and broke the man’s neck with a twist of his foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer fought a shiver up his spine as he waved at the two glasses. “Vodka, gentlemen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel and Dean shared a look before walking into the office, each grabbing a glass. Dean downed his in one gulp before slamming the glass against the desk, and stared at Lucifer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This doesn’t have to end badly for you too, Turgenev. Just give me back my Baby and we’ll let you and the rest of your men live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer’s eyes moved between Castiel and Dean before settling on Castiel after a few seconds. “Good to see you, James.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s lips thinned at the name. “Cut the crap, Lucifer.” Castiel placed his glass on the table, more gently than Dean had done. “Just give us the car and promise to leave us alone. You don’t have to die as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Conflict reigned inside Lucifer as he gripped the glass tightly until his fingers turned white. It wasn’t hard to see that he wanted to stick to his family’s moral code—as fucked up as it was—but that he really didn’t want to die for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gather this isn’t a negotiation?” he settled, finally setting the glass down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s smile had no warmth at all. “You’re damn right it isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer nodded and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a bundle of keys. He threw them to Dean. “Then I’ll be more than happy to accept it. You both have my word that no one and no harm will come to you or your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stared down at the keys, counting them until he seemed satisfied. “Good.” He grabbed the vodka. “I’ll take this too; you people really know how to make vodka and I actually miss it. Loved doing business with you, Turgenev.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean walked out of the office but Castiel stayed behind, left brow raised as he looked into Lucifer’s eyes. “I’m sorry about Michael and Bartholomew, Lucifer. I know they actually meant something to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer scoffed but it was possible to see the hurt and the pain in his eyes. “Yeah, well, your boyfriend didn’t seem to mind killing Michael, even with their past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just as Michael didn’t even hesitate to beat me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer didn’t say anything, only stared at Castiel. After a few seconds, Castiel finally nodded and turned to follow Dean, hesitating for just one more moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be smart, Lucifer. Whatever it is you want to do about Dean and I, </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s not going to end well for you and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was good seeing you, James.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel shook his head, turning it slightly to look at his brother. “I haven’t been James in years, Lucifer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel walked away, making his way to where he could see Dean walking around a car. Baby was intact—thank God—and Dean seemed as happy as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile appeared on Castiel’s lips as he stopped by the passenger’s door. “Ready to go home, Dean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled at him, hand running over Baby’s hood lovingly. “I was born ready, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Translations:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>1. “Все ли готово?“ —&gt; “Is everything ready?“</p><p>This is it! I hope you've all enjoyed it, peeps! Let me know what you thought of it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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